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The 

Airship Boys Adrift 

OR, 


Saved by an Aeroplane 


The Airship Boys 
Series 

By H. L. SAYLER 

Up-to-date, thrilling and 
scientifically correct 

The Airship Boys 

or, The Quest of the Aztec Treasure 

The Airship Boys Adrift 

or, Saved by an Aeroplane 

Each volume with special wrapper and 
cover designs of its own; fully 
illustrated, $1,00 



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Constructing the Aeroplane. (Page ^H.) 





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COPYRIGHT, 1909, 
by 

THE REILLY & BRITTON CO. 
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 






CONTENTS 


CHAP. PAGB 

I. Bob Russell Loses One Job and 

Finds Another 1 

II. Preparations for the Mountains. 13 

III. A Chuck Wagon Breakfast 24 

IV. The Detection of Blue Horse ... 37 

V. Why Blue Horse Was Released. . 50 

VI. The Shot in the Canyon 61 

VH. The Attack of the Utes 73 

VHI. Fording the San Juan 85 

IX. A Trail by Compass 96 

X. Scaling the Mesa 106 

XL An Aeronaut in Spite of Himself.11 8 
XH. The Sneering Idol 128 

XIII. The Return Caravan Sets Out. . .141 

XIV. Afloat Once More 150 

XV. A Maelstrom Among the Clouds . . 163 

XVI. Lost in the Sky 175 

XVH. The Derelict 188 

XVIII. A Dish of Lobscouse 199 

XIX. The Cibola H 210 

XX. Ned Napier’s Ingenuity 222 


V 


vi Contents 

XXL A Strange Collision 23^ 

XXII. The Oracle of a Forgotten Race.244! 
XXIII. The Man with the White Beard. 255 

XXIV. The Sacrificial Pyramid 266 

XXV. The Secret of the Serpent’s 

Mouth 278 

XXVI. Saved by an Idol 290 

XXVII. The Sale of the Treasure 302 


I 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


Constructing the aeroplane .... Frontispiece 
“The group made its way to the plain below” . 145 

Diagrams of the Cibola I and the Cibola II . . 232 

“Half way up the sides stood three men” . . 260 















The 

Airship Boys Adrift 

OR, 

Saved by an Aeroplane 


CHAPTER I 

BOB RUSSELL LOSES ONE JOB AND FINDS ANOTHER 

When Bob Russell, the youngest reporter on 
the Kansas City Comet, reported for work at 
half past seven o’clock on a sunny morning in 
mid- September, he found two messages awaiting 
him. 

One was a note curtly ordering him to report 
to his Managing Editor at once. The other was 
a telegram asking whether he could come to Chi- 
cago to discuss a business matter of importance 
with his boy friend Ned Napier. 

He responded immediately to the command of 
his superior. That gentleman, his eye-glasses 
low on his nose and an unlit cigar set in his 
mouth, received Bob brusquely, without even a 
‘‘good morning.” 


1 


2 


The Airship Boys 


“Russell,” said the Editor quickly, “I told you 
two weeks ago that I would think over your case. 
Have you changed your mind?” 

“No,” answered Bob. “I’m sorry, but I 
haven’t.” 

The Editor whirled his chair, looked out of 
the window, then turned and seemed to relent a 
little. 

“I’m sorry, too,” he went on. “You are the 
youngest man who ever worked under me. I 
thought you had possibilities. Your attitude dis- 
appoints me. What’s worse, you are defiant. I 
don’t blame you so much for failing to get the 
real story, but I can’t understand why you won’t 
write what you do know.” 

“Because circumstances were such that I had 
to give my word that I would not.” 

“But you realize that you are working for the 
Comet, We paid your expenses. What do we 
get for the money we spent on your trip?” 

“I’m ready to repay what was advanced, every 
cent of it— $112.50.” 

The Editor shook his head. 

“Won’t you tell me why you had to give your 
word that you would write nothing?” 

“Gladly,” answered Bob. “I offered to tell 
you before, but — ” 

“Go ahead,” said the Editor, ignoring the mild 


Boh Russell Loses His Job 


3 


rebuke and spinning his chair around again. 

“Six weeks ago,” began Boh, “on August first, 
I discovered and we printed the story of a mys- 
terious special car that passed through Kansas 
City that day on its way west — ” 

“Yes,” interrupted the nervous Editor, biting 
at his cigar, “and it was a bit of work an older 
man might have been proud of.” 

“Thank you,” said Bob. “In that story we 
told for the first time that two boys, Ned Napier, 
a young aeronaut, and his friend Alan Hope, 
together with Elmer Grissom, a young colored 
servant, all from Chicago, were on their way to 
Clarkeville, New Mexico, with a carload of bal- 
loon apparatus. They refused to say what their 
plans were, but I made a guess. In my story I 
said that they represented the Hydrographic 
Office in Washington and were engaged in a big 
experiment.” 

“And you were not right?” interrupted the 
Editor, relaxing into a faint smile. 

“I was not.” 

“And you can’t say even now what they were 
going to do?” 

“I cannot.” 

“Don’t you know?” exclaimed the man, wheel- 
ing sharply, with renewed impatience in his tone. 

“I do not.” 


4 


The Airship Boys 


The Editor shook his head. “And yet,” he 
said, “you followed them and were with them 
from the beginning to the end. And you don’t 
know what they were doing?” 

“I know a great deal that they did. But the 
real object of that expedition I never learned. 
We had adventures, and” — as the young reporter 
said this his eyes glistened and his smile came 
back — “and they were real ones. But conditions 
arose that I couldn’t control and I lost even the 
story of what I really did see.” 

“Personally,” commented the Editor with some 
sarcasm, “I must confess that I can’t imagine 
such a condition. Your sense of honor must be 
highly developed. Go on.” 

Bob was silent a moment. “After I wrote my 
guess at what Napier and his friend meant to 
do — and it wasn’t even a good guess — ^you re- 
member the New York World and the Comet 
ordered me to follow the expedition and discover 
its object. I started the next day. When I 
landed in Clarkeville I was a tramp — ” 

“Real detective!” interrupted the Editor, re- 
turning to his sarcasm. 

“No,” laughed Bob in reply, “a very bad one. 
Napier was too sharp for me. I hired out to him, 
for he was doing a lot of work building a big 
dirigible balloon, and he got onto me in two days.” 


Boh Russell Loses His Job 5 

“Then what?’’ 

“I was ordered out of town by the marshal and 
he started me going at the point of a revolver. 
That’s where I fell down. I tried to bluff it out 
for the Comet and twice I should have been shot 
for my pains if Napier had not jumped in and 
saved my life both times. There was only one 
way in which I could stay and that was as 
Napier’s friend and confidant. What I found out 
later was because he and his friend trusted me 
and — well, there you are.” 

The Editor was thinking and puzzled. “And 
yet you say you stayed with this mysterious ex- 
pedition and never learned its object?” 

“Just that,” answered Bob. “I saw the balloon 
put together and I rode on it into the mountain 
wilderness of Arizona. That was on August 12. 
Napier and Hope left the colored boy and me in 
camp on that day. I didn’t see them again for 
eleven days. Then we all met in the mountains, 
on foot, all of us pretty near ‘all in.’ We got 
back to Clarkeville on August 29, and reached 
Kansas City four days later.” 

“And you don’t know where they went?” 

“No.” 

“And hayen’t eyen a theory?” 

“I made one guess and it was wrong,” an- 
swered Bob, laughing. “Some time I’ll know. 


6 


The Airship Boys 

and then, when I’m at liberty to do so, I’ll be 
glad to write the story for the Cornet*^ 

The Managing Editor was silent for several 
minutes. 

“When that time comes,” he said at last with 
some disgust, “you can go to work again for the 
Comet/' 

“Then I’m discharged.” 

“Yes.” 

The Managing Editor turned angrily to his 
desk without even a formal “good day.” 

Boh hesitated a moment and then, with a cheery 
“good morning,” left the office. 

A half-hour later a boy laid on the desk of 
the Managing Editor a check for $112.50, pay- 
able to the Comet and signed by Robert Russell. 
With it was a note. “Refund of expense money 
paid to me on Clarkeville balloon story.” 

That night the young reporter, full of his old- 
time cheerful enthusiasm and vigor, was a pas- 
senger on the fast train to Chicago. At ten 
o’clock the next morning Bob reached the at- 
tractive suburb where Ned Napier and his mother 
lived. He had never seen Ned’s home, but he 
could not fail to identify it when his quick eye 
caught sight of a building in the back yard, half 
workshop and half library. Not stopping to pre- 
sent himself at the front door, he walked briskly 


Bob Bussell Loses His Job 


7 


around the house. A moment later he and Ned 
Napier and Alan Hope were shaking hands and, 
boy fashion, slapping each other’s backs vigor- 
ously. 

“And so this is where the celebrated Cibola 
was planned and figured out,” exclaimed Bob, 
when he had been ushered into Ned’s shop. “Well, 
it looks it,” he added. The lathes, the electric 
motor, the experimental gasoline engine, the 
racks of tools, the shelves of models and patterns, 
the case of books on aviation, the drawing table, 
the shaded drop lights — to say nothing of the 
odds and ends dear to every boy — all told of an 
owner experienced beyond his years. 

“Yes,” replied Ned, “this is where the Cibola 
was born. And it’s going to be the birthplace of 
something better than the Cibola before we get 
through. We’re mighty glad you could come.” 

“What’s the business?” laughed Bob. 

“Today is Saturday,” explained Alan, “and 
we knew it was your day off. Ned will tell you.” 

“We want to celebrate,” explained Ned. “You 
were with us in our hard luck. Now we are in 
good luck and we want you to share it with us.” 

Bob laughed. “It’s good luck just to see you. 
But what’s up?” 

“I’ll give it to you all at once,” went on Ned. 
“The long and short of it is that we made money 


8 The Airship Boys 

out of our trip into the mountains of N ew Mexico 
and Arizona. We made $25,000 between us — ” 

Bob looked from one to the other in surprise. 

“And Alan and I believe we owe our lives 
partly to you. We want to make you a present 
of a thousand dollars.” 

As he said this Alan handed the astonished re- 
porter a certificate of deposit for that amount. 

Bob’s ever-present smile left him and he fell 
back on his chair with hardly a glance at the en- 
graved paper. Before he could express his as- 
tonishment Alan added : 

“Don’t make a fuss. You’ll make us feel glad 
if you’ll just take it and not even thank us. It 
really ought to be more.” 

But this was too much for even the jovial Bob; 
he could not restrain his emotion. Finally he 
said: “I’ll do it if you think I ought.” Then, 
after a pause, he gave one of his characteristic 
little laughs. “It may come in handy. I lost 
my job yesterday.” 

“Lost your job!” exclaimed Ned. “How?” 

Confusion again swept over Bob, for he had 
told something that he had meant to conceal. 

“I’ll bet it was on account of us!” interrupted 
Alan quickly. 

“Well,” said Bob at last, “it really grew out of 
what I didn’t know about your trip.” 


Boh Russell Loses His Jo^ 9 

For a moment the three boys sat in silence. 
“But you said you were going to give me some- 
thing better than your secret, and I guess you 
have,” said Bob, smoothing out the thousand-dol- 
lar certificate on his knee. 

“And you were discharged because you kept 
your promise to us?” went on Ned impetuously. 

“I don’t put it that way,” explained Bob. “I 
just didn’t agree with my boss. Don’t blame 
yourselves.” 

“Then you’re no longer a reporter!” exclaimed 
Ned with significance, glancing at Alan. 

“Not just now,” replied Bob. 

Ned beckoned Alan aside, and for a few mo- 
ments the two chums were in close conference. 
When they turned again their faces were radiant. 

“Then,” said Ned, slapping Bob on the shoul- 
der, “you’ve got to know our secret. And more 
— we want you for a full partner in a new ad- 
venture. Is it a go?” 

“That’s up to you, boys,” answered Bob a little 
sheepishly. “If you want to tell me I’ll be glad. 
I should like to know where this came from,” and 
he held up the certificate. “As for joining you 
in any enterprise, why — well, you can count on 
me as long as Ned Napier and Alan Hope lead 
the way.” 

“Good!” exclaimed Ned. “Then here’s the se- 


10 The Airship Boys 

cret you came so near knowing. A year ago Ma- 
jor Baldwin Honeywell, once of the United 
States Army, but now retired, discovered, in an 
Indian burial vase, a record made three hundred 
and fifty years ago by a Spaniard named Vas- 
quez, in which was told the secret of an Indian 
temple in the Tunit Cha Mountains. In this rec- 
ord was an account of treasures to be had in the 
place which was marked by a certain Turquoise 
Temple. A friend of Major Honeywell’s, Senor 
Oje, a wealthy Mexican sheep-owner of Colo- 
rado, advanced the money, and Alan and I were 
given a commission to find the treasure. In the 
dirigible balloon Cibola we planned to discover 
the lost temple — ” 

“And you did it right under my nose,” inter- 
rupted Bob, jumping to his feet in his excite- 
ment. 

“Yes. We found it. But we had to leave the 
Cibola on the mesa where we made the discovery. 
When we had managed to find our way out of 
the mountains on foot and had met you we had 
$75,000 worth of pearls and amethysts on our 
persons.” 

“And this is a part of that?” excitedly ex- 
claimed Bob, fingering his gift. 

“Precisely. One-third of the value of the 
jewels came to us. And we left not less than 


Boh Russell Loses His Job 


11 


$45,000 worth of gold and silver on the mesa; 
perhaps more.” 

“And you know where this is?” almost shouted 
Bob. 

“Listen!” went on Ned. “Three days ago 
Senor Oje returned from New York. We had 
a settlement. Major Honeywell is an ethnolo- 
gist. Among the other things we found in the 
temple and couldn’t bring away were a number 
of valuable Indian urns and other relics. Major 
Honeywell determined to possess these and is 
eager to see the ruins from which they came.” 

“Why doesn’t he go to them, then?” inter- 
rupted Bob. 

“He is going to,” replied Ned. “We couldn’t 
leave $50,000 worth of metal down there. Major 
Honeywell is eager to see those ruins, and we’ve 
promised to take him to them. And then we’re 
going to recover the Cibolar 

“The balloon?” exclaimed Bob in astonishment. 

“Yes. Despite the Utes and Navajos we are 
going to make a flying trip into the mountains 
from the north, reinflate the Cibola, dash out of 
the mountains with it to civilization in Colorado 
and carry Major Honeywell back — he’s a cripple, 
you know — and then clean up everything on the 
mesa by means of our aerial express.” 

Bob was on his feet again, flushed with excite- 


12 


The Airship Boys 


merit. “And your gas for the balloon!” he ex- 
claimed suddenly. 

“Compressed in cylinders and carried on burro 
back.” 

The young reporter could only shake his head 
in admiration. 

“Everything is arranged,” added Alan, glanc- 
ing again at Ned, “but our party. We need one 
more member who has sand and pluck. You are 
no longer a newspaper man and you are free to 
do as you like. If you care to join us we’ll make 
you a full partner in our third interest. What 
do you say?” 

“What do I say? I say this is the luckiest 
day of my life — that’s all. I’m ready this min- 
ute.” 

“We leave next Tuesday evening,” said Ned, 
grasping the new partner’s hand, “and on this 
story you are going to be in from the start.” 


CHAPTER II 

PREPARATIONS FOR THE MOUNTAINS 

“And now,” said Ned, “we have a lot to do. 
I want you boys to have luncheon with me. This 
afternoon we will go into the city and see th^t 
our outfit is ready. Tomorrow,” he added, turn- 
ing to Bob Russell, “you had better return to 
Kansas City and get ready to join us when we 
pass through that place Wednesday morning.” 

Before they took Bob in to meet Mrs. Napier 
the boys hastily explained to him a few things. 

“The other trip cost Senor Oje $12,580,” ex- 
plained Ned. “And his share of the treasure 
was $25,000. He is ready to pay the entire ex- 
penses of this trip, but we are all sharing in it 
alike. We are going to give you a one-third in- 
terest in our one-third share.” 

“But,” interrupted Bob. “I don’t see why. I 
can’t do the things that you boys do.” 

“We’ll take a chance on that,” laughed Ned. 

“All right,” responded Bob, “but since I’m a 
capitalist now I want you to let me share in the 
expenses too.” 

To this the boys finally consented and Bob 
13 


14 The Airship Boys 

turned his thousand- dollar certificate back into 
the general treasury. 

“We are going by rail direct to Dolores in 
southwestern Colorado/’ continued Ned. “This 
is where the home ranch of Senor Oje is located. 
He left for the west two days ago and will meet 
us with a wagon train and the men who are to 
help us. From Dolores we are to freight it across 
Montezuma Valley to the foot of Ute Mountain, 
which is practically at the point where Colorado, 
Utah, New Mexico and Arizona form right an- 
gles. There, near McElmo Canyon, we are to 
make a camp where Senor Oje, Major Honey- 
well and the main outfit will be left. From this 
camp Alan, you, Elmer Grissom, ‘Salty Bill’ 
Donnelly and I are going to set out to rediscover 
the treasure mesa.” 

“And then — ?” 

“The Cibola is to be inflated. With the aid of 
the balloon we will return to the camp and get 
Major Honeywell. By making enough trips we 
hope to carry all back to the camp at McElmo 
Canyon — and the treasure and Indian relics.” 

“But how about this compressed hydrogen?” 
asked Bob, with a puzzled look. 

“Since we can’t take liquid hydrogen this time,” 
answered Ned, “we are going to carry pure hy- 
drogen highly compressed. We need at least 


Preparations for the Mountains 15 

65,000 cubic feet, and a dozen ordinary com- 
pressed air drums will hold this under a pressure 
of 3,000 pounds to the square inch. Then there 
will be a duplicate number of drums to leave at 
the camp so that we can inflate a second time.” 

Bob smiled. 

‘Tf this were compressed air,” went on Ned, 
“it would mean a considerable load. A cubic foot 
of air at 60 degrees temperature weighs .0807 
pounds, and 65,000 feet would weigh over 5,000 
pounds. Double that would give us a load of five 
tons. But hydrogen is only one-sixteenth the 
weight of air. Therefore, the gas we are going 
to load on our burros will weigh only a little over 
three hundred pounds.” 

“I’ll try to remember,” interrupted Bob so- 
berly, “when it comes to writing up the expedi- 
tion.” 

“You must remember, too,” added Ned, “that 
it is going to require twenty-four steel drums to 
hold this and that each will weigh at least two 
hundred pounds.” 

“Not so easy after all,” said Bob. “But how 
about this dash to the mesa? Have you got a 
sign up to show where it is? To me all those 
peaks and canyons look pretty much alike.” 

“And to us also,” answered Ned. “But, you 
see, we know the exact latitude and longitude.” 


16 


The Airship Boys 


“Just like a ship!” exclaimed Bob. 

“Precisely,” answered Ned. “That’s what our 
sextant did for us.” 

Bob’s eyes sparkled with amazement. 

“Well, who would have thought of that!” he 
exclaimed. 

Both Ned and Alan smiled. 

“The south point of our mesa is in longitude 
109 degrees, 7 minutes and 30 seconds west — ” 
continued Ned. 

Bob tried to look as if he understood, but the 
explanation was quite lost upon him. 

“The latitude,” went on Ned, “is 36 degrees, 
44 minutes and 25 seconds north. Now you have 
it. Go and find your treasure.” 

“I’d like to know how you’re going to find that 
point even if you do know there is such a place,” 
was Bob’s reply, 

“In two ways,” explained Ned. “We have al- 
ready learned from the Survey Department at 
Washington that the point of juncture between 
Colorado, Utah, New Mexico and Arizona is 109 
degrees, 7 minutes, 30 seconds west longitude and 
37 degrees north latitude. If we can locate the 
boundary monument near Ute Mountain it will 
then be a matter of the compass. Allowing 69.16 
miles to a degree of longitude and 68.93 miles to 
a degree of latitude our mesa must lie 34.5 miles 


Preparations for the Mountains 


17 


south and 17.79 miles west of where these states 
and territories join.” 

“And what if you don’t find the boundary 
monument?” asked Bob. 

“We have a new sextant, and another observa- 
tion will give us a new starting point. As long as 
we know one point we can find another by laying 
out our course with a compass, just as a ship 
captain would, allowing of course for the varia- 
tion of the compass needle in that locality.” 

“And I suppose you’ve invented some sort of 
telescoping ladder that is going to take you mag- 
ically to the top of the mesa?” suggested Bob, 
who was bound not to be surprised at anything. 

“Better than that,” answered Alan. “A little 
balloon ascension will do it. We were lucky 
enough to find a small, ready-made gas balloon 
bag in this city. It holds less than 10,000 cubic 
feet of gas and can be carried in a small trunk. 
We are going to inflate this and let it up at the 
end of a rope. It is big enough to carry one of 
us.” 

“The rest will be easy,” went on Ned. “In the 
tunnel mouth we left ropes. One of these lowered 
will bring up our new rope ladder. Then we 
have only to draw up our supplies and we are 
ready to put the Cibola in commission again.” 

Coming after his previous experience Ned Na- 


18 


The Airship Boys 


pier’s resourceful inventions and ideas did not 
astonish Bob. He had begun to accept the most 
startling schemes as commonplaces. 

They now went in to luncheon, and Bob forgot 
for the moment his eager and as yet unsatisfied 
curiosity in the pleasure of meeting Ned’s mother. 
Mrs. Napier, who had the greatest confidence in 
her son, did not seem concerned over the danger 
that the boys might encounter. 

‘‘But what is the use of money,” she argued, 
“at the expense of education? Both Ned and 
Alan ought to be in school,” she went on, “and 
I’ve only consented to Ned’s going on the condi- 
tion that he makes up for his lost time by extra 
work. Both he and Alan graduate from the high 
school next spring and I’d rather have them do 
that with honor than bring back a wagon-load 
of silver and gold — ” 

“Or dusty mummies,” laugjied Alan. 

Luncheon over, the three exuberant boys 
started for the city to visit the camp outfitter’s 
and to revel in the fascinating details of their 
camp kit and stores. 

“We learned a good many things on that first 
trip,” explained Ned, “and I suppose you did, 
too,” he added, turning to Bob. “This time you 
don’t want to start out in tan shoes and a straw 
hat. There are a good many things we took that 


Preparations for the Mountains 19 

time that we are not taking this time. But, after 
all, it is rather simple. Senor Oje is going to 
provide everything needed in the camp on Mc- 
Elmo. We are arranging only the outfit for the 
dash into the mountains and plan to take only 
the material we need for that trip and for the 
removal of the waiting treasure.” 

“And, by the way,” interrupted Alan, “do you 
remember what Senor Oje said? We reach Dol- 
ores at noon and are to begin the wagon trip 
with a cowboy breakfast cooked by ‘Salty Bill’ 
Donnelly.” 

“That sounds bad,” interrupted Bob. 

“ ‘Salty Bill’,” explained Ned, “is another 
‘Buck’ Bourke. Senor Oje says he is the best 
chuck wagon cook on the range. And before his 
cook days he was a freighter, just like Buck. 
They say he is a real relic of the old days; knows 
everything there is to know about the plains and‘ 
couldn’t be lost in the wilderness with his eyes 
bandaged.” 

“And he goes with us?” asked Bob. 

“We go with him, I guess,” answered Alan. 

From the moment when Ned and Alan had 
made the report of their wonderful discovery to 
Senor Oje and Major Honeywell, the boys had 
been busy on plans for the second trip. 

Each gas cylinder tube contained three cubic 


20 


The Airship Boys 


feet and was about four feet long. When ar- 
rangements had been made to have these drums 
charged with pure hydrogen gas and the order 
had been placed for the strong hundred-foot 
rope-ladder, the heaviest work was under way. 
The order for the camp equipage and provisions 
had been placed with an expert and they were be- 
ing packed in form suitable for burro transporta- 
tion. A new sextant had been secured, a good 
compass purchased and a new outfit of firearms 
arranged for. All this baggage was to precede 
the boys by express to Dolores. 

“As this is to be mountain work and it is get- 
ting into autumn and we may be gone a month 
or more,” Ned explained to Bob, “we need a little 
heavier clothing than we used before.” 

He gave Bob the list that he and Alan had 
made for themselves and Elmer. It included a 
medium weight rough suit of clothes, an extra 
pair of trousers, two woolen outing shirts, two 
suits of flannel underwear, two pairs of socks, 
two towels, two handkerchiefs, a light rubber 
rain coat, a pair of laced waterproof knee hunt- 
ing boots, a soft hat, a woolen sweater, a ditty bag 
containing toilet articles, and two blankets each. 

“And,” explained Ned, “let everything be of 
grey or brown — no reds or blues to attract the 
eye. We are not looking for game, but we know 


Preparations for the Mountains 21 

that it is just as well not to advertise ourselves 
to the Indians. Our dash is going to take us 
right through the heart of the Southern Ute res- 
ervation.” 

“And,” added Alan to Bob, “don’t forget a 
padded canteen, a waterproof match box, a small 
compass of your own and a good hunting knife.” 

The boys reached the outfitters just in time to 
see the boxed camp equipage and provisions leav- 
ing for the express office. At first Bob was some- 
what disappointed. 

“Is that all you are going to take?” he asked, 
pointing to the single box marked “Camp and 
Mess Outfit.” 

Ned laughed and showed him what was in the 
case — one 9 by 9 khaki tent with floor cloth and 
fly, guys and iron stakes; a folding pocket ax; 
a miner’s coffee pot ; three block tin camp kettles 
with riveted handles so arranged as to form a 
roasting oven; one skillet; one bake pan; and four 
each of plates, cups, knives, forks and spoons. 

“That’s where I miss out,” laughed Boh, when 
he saw the eating utensils, “but I’ll take my own.” 

“Don’t you bother about that,” suggested Ned, 
“the man who can’t improvise those things ought 
not try camp life.” 

Then came a coil of rope, a coil of wire, and 
such small cooking utensils as salt, pepper and 


22 


The Airship Boys 


flour dredges, a cooking spoon, a fork, a ladle, 
a can opener and a whetstone. 

“I guess that’ll do,” exclaimed Bob at last. 
“Looks as good as a hotel to me.” 

“Well,” said Ned, “old timers don’t ‘rough it’ 
any more. Now they ‘smooth it.’ And we want 
to be comfortable at least.” 

“And food?” asked Bob with renewed interest. 

Ned pointed to two tin-lined ration chests, each 
weighing with their contents about a hundred and 
twenty-flve pounds. “In there,” he explained. 
“Each case contains more than enough for four 
men for five days. We shan’t suffer unless our 
pack animals bolt with the boxes.” 

Each chest contained, packed in air tight or 
tin packages, the following : 


20 lbs. self-raising flour. 
6 lbs. fresh biscuit. 

6 lbs. corn meal. 

6 lbs. navy beans. 

3 lbs. rice. 

5 lbs. salt pork. 

5 lbs. bacon. 

10 lbs. ham. 

15 lbs. potatoes. 

6 lbs. onions. 

6 lbs. coffee. 


6 boxes matches. 

1 lb. soap. 

1 lb. corn starch. 

3 lbs. preserved butter. 
3 lbs. dried fruit. 

% gal. pickles. 
y 2 gal. preserves. 

1 quart syrup. 

1 box pepper. 

1 box mustard. 

1 lb. candles. 


Preparations for the Mountains 


2B 


6 lbs. sugar. 1 jar cheese, 

lb. tea. 1 box ginger, 

lb. baking powder. 1 box allspice. 

y 2 lb. baking soda. 1 lb. currants. 

4 cans condensed cream. 1 lb. raisins. 

1 sack salt. 6 boxes sardines. 


“I’m satisfied,” exclaimed Bob, when he had 
finished reading the list. “With Elmer’s cul- 
inary skill and all these things I guess we won’t 
need any soup tablets this time.” 


CHAPTER III 

A CHUCK WAGON BREAKFAST 

That portion of Arizona lying northwest of 
the impassable depths of the Grand Canyon of 
the Colorado is a region known as “No Man’s 
Land.” The sterile waste of its Paria, Kanab 
and Sanur Plateaus is today the refuge of only 
white outlaws. Even the red man has abandoned 
the desert, valleys and canyons, uninviting alike 
to the settler, the prospector and the hunter. 

Just east of the almost unmeasured chasm of 
the Grand Canyon a stretch of sandy plains loses 
itself in a broken country. This, in turn, be- 
comes rougher until hills and mesas give place 
to a chaos of mountains. When the northeastern 
corner of Arizona is reached these irregular 
ranges leap suddenly into the mass of peaks and 
plateaus known as the Tunit Chas. 

Therein, and extending into the plains on both 
sides, is the immense Indian reservation set aside 
by the United States for the use of the Nava j os. 
In its uncharted valleys, slopes and table lands 
no less than sixteen thousand Nava j os make their 
home. Nowhere into that region has the foot of 
the white man advanced. Not even an Indian 
24 


A Chuck Wagon Breakfast 2o 

town varies the mystifying monotony of the un- 
tracked wild. Here and there, in sequestered 
valleys and near springs or water courses, a few 
Indian families may be found encamped tempo- 
rarily together. But, aside from these isolated 
settlements, this rocky playground of Nature 
knows no life but that of the wild animal. 

From this region come many tales; legends of 
the Indian as he yet adheres to the life and cus- 
toms of the savage aborigine — strange and cruel 
religious rites and ever-present jealousy of the 
white man’s approach. Among these tales are 
some of murdered men, and the traveler who 
would brave the perils of the unblazed heights of 
the Tunit Chas and the surrounding deserts 
should know of the many white men who have 
disappeared into this wilderness never to return. 

Here the deadly rattlesnake basks in venomous 
plenitude; here alone, in America, skulk bands 
of wild dogs more savage than timber wolves, 
more tenacious than bull-dogs, and with a bite 
as fatal as the rattlesnake’s ; here, too — according 
to camp-fire tales — wander, ghostlike, the last of 
many camels introduced into this region forty 
years ago; here abounds rare game prized by the 
hunter and the trapper; and here the bear, the 
mountain sheep and the lion roam forests and 
crags yet untrailed and primeval. 


26 The Airship Boys 

In such a land Ned Napier and Alan Hope had 
found the mesa of the Turquoise Temple and its 
treasure and into it they were now about to ven- 
ture once more. None knew better than they the 
dangers that might be encountered, yet the boys 
had already heard the “call of the wild’’ and for 
them peril no longer counted. 

At eight o’clock on the evening of September 
25 Major Baldwin Honeywell, Ned, Alan, and 
Elmer Grissom left Chicago on the Denver Ex- 
press. In addition to the baggage that preceded 
them Ned and Alan had a trunk packed with 
their “campaign” clothes, as they called them. 
In addition Ned had a small new, iron-bound 
trunk containing a carefully selected set of iron 
and wood- working tools from his shop and a few 
mysterious packages, the contents of which he 
had not revealed to anyone. 

Bob Russell joined the party in Kansas City 
at nine o’clock the next morning. On the suc- 
ceeding morning, at ten o’clock, the “Napier Ex- 
pedition,” as Bob liked to call it, reached Denver. 
At seven o’clock on the same evening they board- 
ed the train that was to carry them through the 
mountains to Dolores, the edge of civilization, 
where Senor Oje awaited them. 

“Then for that cowboy breakfast,” Alan re- 
minded them. 


A Chuck Wagon Breakfast 27 

‘‘And Salty Bill Donnelly,” Bob added as 
quickly. 

They had breakfast the next morning at Ala- 
mosa, in the heart of the Sangre de Cristo and 
Sierra Blanca mountain ranges at an elevation of 
eight thousand feet, and then the journey west- 
ward was continued to Durango. This daylight 
ride through the mountains was a joy to the four 
boys. First came the green San Luis Valley, 
out of which the narrow gauge train climbed onto 
the meandering loops of the “Whiplash” and 
then, far above the lower hills, the cars crawled 
along the edge of the mighty Los Pinos gulch. 
This was but a hint of wonders to come. 

Major Honeywell had called the boys to the 
rear of the observation car. 

“It’ll clear your heads for mesa climbing,” he 
said with a laugh. 

Just then the train rounded a curve into a 
seeming forest of stone monoliths, and suddenly 
shot into a tunnel. As it emerged from the tun- 
nel it swung onto a balcony of rock apparently 
suspended over the brink of the celebrated Toltec 
Gorge. Far down below a few scattered pines 
clinging here and there to the ragged granite 
emphasized the dark depths where a threadlike 
stream found its way among the icy boulders. 

The boys sprang back instinctively. 


28 


The Airship Boys 

“I don’t mind a balloon,” said Ned, '‘but that’s 
too cold and dark.” 

“And gloomy,” added Alan. 

“And deep,” concluded Bob. 

Beyond this the train climbed higher still and 
then, crossing the Divide at over ten thousand 
feet, began the descent. As well watered valleys 
began to show between the rocky and barren 
mountains Major Honeywell called attention to 
moving spots of white — distant sheep flocks. 
They were approaching the grazing plains. 

“This country,” explained Major Honeywell 
enthusiastically, “is where we got the money that 
paid for the Cibola/^ 

“Therefore,” said Ned, lifting his cap, “I take 
off my hat to it. Long may its grass grow green.” 

The train descended lower and lower into the 
grazing valleys, paused for a short time at Duke 
in the Jicarilla Apache land and then passed into 
the Southern Ute reservation. At the little town 
of Ignacio (named for a mighty chief of the 
Utes) it stopped in sight of the agency head- 
quarters. A dozen or more squaws and men were 
squatted on the adobe station platform with crude 
pottery and many colored bead articles exposed 
for sale. 

Major Honeywell and the boys alighted from 
the train. 


29 


A Chuck Wagon Breakfast 

“That’s the Ute agency over there,” explained 
the Major, pointing to a two-story building op- 
posite the depot, “and there seems to be some- 
thing unusual going on,” he added. A dozen 
horses, a few closely blanketed Indians and three ^ 
or four white men were grouped just in front 
of the entrance. 

“Yes,” explained a man lounging in the door 
of the baggage room, “and I guess they’s agoin’ 
to be something more unusualler.” 

“What’s up?” inquired Ned eagerly, his mind 
full of the tragedy that had resulted in the death 
of their guide Buck a few weeks before, which he 
had always believed was the work of Ute Indians. 

“Well,” drawled the lounger, “a posse o’ white 
men from the south hev been a shootin’ up the 
Utes down on the line.” 

“Where from?” interrupted Ned. “And what 
for?” 

“As I git it,” explained the man, “they was 
from over south o’ the mountains, Clarkeville, I 
guess. And I heerd that the Utes killed one o’ 
their freighters and stampeded his horses down 
on the Amarillo.” 

“It’s Mayor Bradley and his friends,” ex- 
claimed Ned, “and they’re getting revenge for 
old Buck’s death.” 

“I reckon ye’r right,” went on the Ignacio cit- 


30 


The Airship Boys 

izen. “They sartin shot a swath through the Utes. 
Some o’ the head men air up yar tryin’ to git 
help. But I reckon the row is about over now 
exceptin’ what the Utes do when they git good 
and drunk.” 

“Are the Utes making trouble?” asked Major 
Honeywell anxiously. “Have any of them left 
the reservation?” 

“What ain’t yar is aridin’ in circles lookin’ 
fur gore, I calkerlate,” replied the lounger. “The 
agent is sendin’ out a gang o’ deputies today to 
ca’m ’em down ef he kin.” 

Just then the train started and the boys and 
the Major sprang aboard. 

When it was well under way again Alan said : 
“Looks as if we were getting here just in time 
— for trouble.” 

“One time is as good as another for that, with 
the Utes,” soberly answered the Major. “I’m 
sorry to hear this.” 

“That fellow Bradley certainly means business 
when he gets started,” interrupted Bob Russell. 
“And what he and his friends have done to 
avenge old Buck I’ll bet was a plenty.” 

The episode cast a little damper on the trav- 
elers who, all day, had been viewing the grandest 
mountain scenery in the world as if they were 
merely curious tourists. The Major especially 


A Chuck Wagon Breakfast 31 

was now inclined to be silent. But Indians on 
the warpath — so long at least as they were some- 
what remote — could not alarm boys hke those of 
the “Napier Expedition”; and new sights soon 
gave the boys new thoughts. 

The train had swung down into New Mexico 
in passing through the corner of the Ute reser- 
vation, but now, later in the afternoon, it had 
wound its way back again into Colorado. It 
traversed bottom lands of willows and grass, sage 
brush and sprawling cedar and pinon — the Flori- 
da and Animas valleys, once desert, but now fast 
turning green as a result of the irrigation canals. 
Then another short grade was ascended and at 
six o’clock the train stopped for the night at Du- 
rango. The last stage of the journey was to be 
made the next day. 

No sooner were the boys and their new com- 
panion comfortably established in the hotel than 
Major Honeywell sought the telephone and 
called up the Ute agent at Ignacio. While the 
boys clamored for supper the old soldier waited 
patiently for his connection. After a long delay 
it was given him, but the boys did not hear the 
conversation. When the Major came from the 
interview he was in no cheerful mood. 

“Mr. Wyburn, the agent, disapproves of any 
attempt to pass through the reservation,” Major 


32 The Airship Boys 

Honeywell explained, when they were all seated 
at the table. 

“Does he prohibit it?” asked Ned anxiously. 

“No, not exactly, after I told him who I was 
and that we were with Senor Oje,” said the Ma- 
jor, “but he said that he would not be responsible 
for the consequences if we did it.” 

“Humph,” exclaimed Ned, “I’d rather tackle 
a drunken brawler than a sober horse thief.” 

“Well,” said Major Honeywell, “we will be 
governed by circumstances.” 

At half -past seven the next morning the jour- 
ney by rail was resumed. Bob ate a light break- 
fast. 

“Remember,” he cautioned the party, “we get 
to Dolores at one o’clock and you want to be 
ready to do justice to Salty Bill’s cowboy 
breakfast.” 

“I don’t need to fast all day to do that,” laugh- 
ingly answered Alan. “This mountain air is 
sauce enough for me.” 

It was only sixty miles from Durango to Do- 
lores, but it took the laboring train five hours 
to cover the distance. The wonders of the jour- 
ney had begun to pall a little upon the impatient 
lads. The Paradox Divide, the beautiful Man- 
cos Valley and even Lost Canyon did not wholly 


A Chuck Wagon Breakfast 33 

claim their attention. They were eager to reach 
the end of their rail journey and to start on the 
trail again, in the face of Ute uprisings or any 
other dangers that might threaten. 

In the little town of Dolores, perched on the 
mountain side and on the banks of the Dolores 
River, there was also some impatience. Senor 
Oje’s ranch, located six miles from the town, had 
been early astir that day. Salty Bill Donnelly, 
summoned hastily from his home in Mancos, had 
reported to his old friend and employer the day 
before. It mattered little to Salty Bill whether 
his work involved a journey of five miles or five 
hundred. When he had ridden up to the ranch 
the day before, on Spot, his calico cayuse, and 
had been told that he was to head a party to the 
Tunit Chas the next day, he had had neither com- 
ment nor preparation to make. 

With his rope, blanket, Colt and canteen he 
would, if necessary, have started on the trail at 
once, and trusted to luck for food. But when he 
learned that he was to uphold his reputation as 
a cook with a cowboy breakfast for Colonel Oje’s 
guests he looked at the matter in another light. 

“Colonel,” he said, “I ain’t cooked none in five 
year.” 

“Salty,” replied Senor Oje, “you couldn’t for- 


34 


The Airship Boys 


get the fringe of your cooking in twenty years.’’ 

“Well, it won’t be nothin’ but chuck. An’ that 
reminds me — ” 

“Not now, Salty — no stories now”; for that 
was Salty’s weakness. “The chuck wagon’s 
stocked. But you’d better go out and look it 
over. You can get into Dolores the first thing 
in the morning. Have breakfast ready when the 
noon train arrives.” 

“Breakfast at noon?” roared Salty Bill. 

“Call it what you like,” laughed the Mexican 
rancher, “grub, chuck or beans. But have it hot 
and plenty.” 

“Do you want beans. Colonel?” asked Salty 
Bill suddenly. 

“Certainly. It wouldn’t be a cowboy meal 
without beans.” 

“Then I’ll hev to start tonight. There ain’t 
agoin’ to be no boiled beans set out by me. Ye’ve 
got to cook beans in the ground at night. Ye 
know that, I reckon. Why — ” 

“AJl right. Salty!” laughed the sheep-owner. 
“Start when you like.” 

Before dark Senor Oje’s best chuck wagon 
was parked not far from the Dolores station and 
Salty Bill got to work. A space was cleared at 
the end of the wagon where the provisions could 
be laid out conveniently; the pot rack was swung 


A Chuck Wagon Breakfast 35 

and a fire was set blazing. In a big black pot the 
beans were soon on a boil. Salty Bill and his 
helper, John Rico, supped luxuriously on coffee, 
hardtack, salt pork and preserved peaches, and 
then, joined by a few old time friends from the 
town, with pipes lit, they sat about the bean fire, 
traded yarns and sang songs until midnight. The 
coffee-pot was kept simmering and Salty’s stories 
grew better as the beans bubbled. 

But at twelve o’clock the party was dismissed. 

‘T hate to do it, boys,” explained Salty, “but 
I’ve got important work tomorrer.” 

Then the already fragrant beans were turned 
into the waiting pot with a giant chunk of pork 
and Salty’s secret seasoning, buried in a hole dug 
in the coals, and covered with smoking ashes ; and 
rolling themselves in their blankets Salty and his 
assistant slept by the fire. 

A few moments before the train was due the 
next day a monster pan of Salty’s famous French 
fried potatoes was ready. Likewise the big cof- 
fee-pot was emitting puffs of odorous vapor. 
When the smoke of the engine was seen far down 
the track the first batch of five dozen biscuits 
disappeared in the big, hot Dutch oven. 

“An’ ev’ry one patted out round and smooth 
with my own hand,” explained Salty later. “I 
wouldn’t let no one else do that. Anybody kin 


36 


The Airship Boys 


toss up a batch o’ biskits,” continued Salty, “but 
’t ain’t but mighty few kin pat ’em out jist right.” 

As the train drew up to the station Salty turned 
to John Rico as did Dewey at Manila. 

“Let ’em go. Jack,” he ordered; and on the 
word the excited Rico dropped into the second 
Dutch oven, heated to a degree, three T-bone 
steaks such as a butcher shop seldom sees. 

And that was Salty Bill’s cowboy breakfast. 
To this day, when Ned Napier, Alan Hope and 
Bob Russell fall into reminiscences, they still dis- 
pute as to what should receive chief honor. Salty’s 
biscuits, the beans, or the T-bone steaks. And a 
final decision has never been reached. 


CHAPTER IV 

THE DETECTION OF BLUE HORSE 

When the long-waited-for breakfast was over, 
and Salty Bill Donnelly and John Rico had 
broken the chuck camp, Colonel Oje — for as such 
he was known in Dolores, — Major Honeywell, 
and the boys hastened to the express office, which 
was in the depot. It was fairly bulging with the 
“Napier Expedition” outfit. The two dozen steel 
drums of hydrogen, the casks of gasoline, the 
camp outfit and the provisions, with sundry small- 
er packages, had arrived safely only the day be- 
fore. Within two blocks stood the new Dolores 
National Bank, a stone building. Above it were 
the business offices of Colonel Oje. And to these 
rooms, at Senor Oje’s suggestion, the personal 
baggage of the boys was at once taken. 

Senor Oje was smoking his usual black cigar. 
The success of the breakfast and the exuberant 
spirits of the boys seemed to please him mightily. 

“I suppose I had better take charge until you 
are ready for your mountain work,” he said to 
Ned. “Then IT resign as commander.” 

Ned gave ready assent to this. 

37 


38 


The Airship Boys 


“Then I suggest that you boys get out of your 
city clothes and leave your fancy duds here until 
you return. I have a freight wagon all ready to 
load up with the stuff at the station. When this 
is aboard Dan Mears will start with it at once for 
Cortez. That’s about twelve miles from here, in 
the Montezuma Valley. John Rico will drive 
the chuck wagon. As soon as Salty Bill has 
cleaned up the breakfast mess he will ride over 
to my ranch. When you are ready we will fol- 
low him — it’s six miles west of here and we can 
make it in a few minutes in my car. At the ranch 
Salty Bill will help you boys pick out a pony 
apiece, and when you are fixed he’ll conduct you 
by a short cut through the pinon to the valley be- 
low and to Cortez. You ought to get there as 
soon as the wagons. Major Honeywell and I 
will return in the car and follow the wagon trail 
to Cortez, where there is a little hotel. We’ll have 
supper there and sleep in Cortez. Then, early 
tomorrow morning, we’ll be off for Ute Mount- 
ain. The Major and I will leave the car at Cor- 
tez and travel with John Rico on the chuck 
wagon. You boys shall be our escort.” 

It sounded like the program of a holiday ex- 
cursion. 

“I don’t know how we are ever going to be 
grateful enough — ” began Ned, but Major Hon- 


The Detection of Blue Horse 39 

eywell, his mind busy with the thoughts of an old 
soldier and Indian fighter, interrupted him. 
There had been no time to speak to Senor Oje of 
the news they had had of the Ute trouble; and 
now the Major insisted on relating it and hold- 
ing a council of war. 

‘TVe heard all that and more,” replied the 
Mexican. “But there is never a time when we are 
not having more or less trouble with the Utes. 
All I can say is this: We have Salty Bill Don- 
nelly with us. After we reach McElmo Canyon, 
if he says ‘go ahead,’ I’ll consent. If he says it 
is dangerous, that will settle it; I’ll vote to post- 
pone the trip.” 

Bob Russell, Alan and the colored boy, Elmer 
Grissom, were already in an inner room changing 
their clothes while Senor Oje, Major Honeywell 
and Ned paused in the main office. On the wall 
hung a large new Indian Reservation and For- 
est Reserve map of the United States. 

“You will notice,” went on Senor Oje, point- 
ing to the district they were about to enter, “that 
Ute Mountain, near which we have planned to 
make our camp on McElmo Canyon, is almost 
on the Utah and Colorado lines. At this point 
the Ute reservation narrows to not much more 
than fifteen miles. It is a wild and mountainous 
district, somewhat east of the usual haunts of the 


40 


The Airship Boys 


trouble-makers. Once through that district, you 
boys will be in Navajo country. I can’t say that 
you will be exactly safe in the Navajo reserva- 
tion, but it is as safe there now as it ever is. You’ll 
surely be safe from the Utes, who wouldn’t cross 
the Navajo line any sooner than a rattler would 
cross a lariat.” 

“Well,” said Ned after a few moments’ 
thought, “I’m not very old, and I’ve not had the 
experience you gentlemen have had, and it’s only 
right that we should do exactly as your judgment 
advises. But I want to say this: I’ve read a 
good deal and I’m fond of the books that tell how 
men who do things get ahead. I think you’ll both 
agree with me that the men who turn back in the 
face of danger are always turning back.” 

Both men smiled. 

“That’s the spirit, Ned,” exclaimed Major 
Honeywell. “That’s what took Stanley through 
Africa. But you must think of others too. Your 
mother can’t afford to lose you.” 

Ned was silent some time, for he was in no sense 
given to rashness or braggadocio. 

“Well,” he said at last, “ever since I was old 
enough to have ambition I have wanted to rise. 
I don’t believe anyone can do that by doing the 
things that everyone else does. These Indians are 
in the wrong. There is no reason why they should 


The Detection of Blue Horse 41 

molest us. We mean them no harm and we have 
the right on our side. I think we have courage 
and brains on our side too. If you won’t think 
me too bold I’d like to ask you both to consent 
to our going ahead. We are certainly not afraid.” 

His elders looked at each other. 

“What can you say to that, Major?” said Senor 
Oje finally. 

The military man smiled faintly. “Soldiers,” 
he answered, “don’t count so much on the justness 
of their cause as on their strength. I’m only half 
persuaded. But I approve of going ahead to 
Ute Mountain. Then we can decide positively.” 

Ned hastened into the adjoining room to join 
his friends and change his clothes. A few mo- 
ments later the four boys were at the station as- 
sisting in the loading of the freight wagon. Stout 
laced boots, khaki trousers loosely made in the 
fashion of riding breeches, grey fiannel shirts and 
soft hats, gave them an appearance like that of 
Uncle Sam’s soldiers. Salty Bill’s calico cayuse 
had already disappeared around a shoulder of 
the mountains in the direction of the Oje home 
ranch, and while the boys were yet busy with the 
gas drums and boxes Senor Oje drove up in his 
grey sixty-horse-power touring car. He cautioned 
Dan Mears against the danger of fire near the 
gasoline, and against tampering with the valves 


42 


The Airship Boys 


of the gas drums, and then the four-horse freight 
wagon took up the mountain trail road at a little 
after three o’clock, and, close behind John Rico’s 
chuck wagon, set out for Cortez, the night ren- 
dezvous in Montezuma valley. 

Then the boys had the novelty of a motor ride 
in the mountains. Stowed away in the big car, 
they saw the little town shut out behind the 
mountains, and then, as the well-made road turned 
the shoulder of rock behind which Salty Bill had 
just disappeared, and the fertile Montezuma val- 
ley unrolled to their gaze, exclamations of delight 
came from all at once. Below the pinon timber, 
through which the trail ran, grassy slopes ex- 
tended downward in undulating waves of emer- 
ald richness. Here and there the silvery lines of 
irrigating canals threaded their way between 
fruit farms and grain fields, and then, beyond, 
the misty green of vegetation faded into the gold- 
en grey of the plains which, on the far horizon, 
merged into the haze of the Utah desert. Far to 
the southwest, like a pointed cloud, a solitary peak 
marked the horizon. 

“Ute Mountain,” explained Senor Oje. 

“And beyond that?” asked Ned, pointing to a 
dark break in the sky line. 

“The Tunit Chas.” 

In a short time the wagon trail turned to the 


The Detection of Blue Horse 43 

right and the view of the valley was for the mo- 
ment lost. As the occupants of the car glanced 
forward they were surprised to see two horsemen 
a short distance ahead, standing in a widened por- 
tion of the road as if awaiting the car. 

‘‘Hello,” exclaimed Senor Oje. “It’s Salty 
Bill and—” 

He did not finish his remark at once. But, as 
the car drew near and slowed down, it could be 
seen that Salty Bill’s companion was an Indian. 
This was not apparent at once for the reason that 
the red man was dressed much like a white man. 
But his typical features, the two jet-black bands 
of hair that fell over his ears from beneath his 
soft white hat, a silver-studded belt, and his moc- 
casins told the man’s race. 

“And Blue Horse,” continued Senor Oje with 
marked surprise in his voice. As the machine 
came to a stop Elmer Grissom sprang to his feet. 
With trembling lips, his eyes seemingly glued 
on the stohd Indian, the colored boy grasped 
Senor Oje’s shoulder. 

“Dat’s him,” he exclaimed thickly. “Dat’s de 
Indian!” 

Everyone stood up in excitement. “Dat’s de 
Indian we see on de Amarillo,” repeated Elmer. 

Senor Oje turned. “What do you mean?” he 
asked quickly. 


44 


The Airship Boys 


“Dat’s de man as wanted whisky,” went on El- 
mer, shaking with the excitement of his dis- 
covery. ‘'He came to us de night Buck and me 
was camped on de Amarillo. He’s one of Buck’s 
murderers.” 

As he made the astounding declaration all 
sprang from the car. 

“One of Buck’s murderers?” repeated Senor 
Oje. “Are you sure, boy? This is Blue Horse. 
He’s the only Indian I ever trusted. Why, he 
has worked for me for years. He belongs to my 
Mesa Verde ranch outfit.” 

“Sho!” exclaimed Elmer. “He’s de fust real 
Indian I ever see. I kain’t fergit him.” 

The Indian, if he understood, gave no sign of 
concern. He sat stolid and unspeaking. 

“Salty,” exclaimed Senor Oje suddenly and in 
a tone the boys had never heard him use before, 
“what’s Blue Horse doing here?” 

“I met him on his way from the ranch to see 
ye in Dolores,” Salty Bill explained. “He come 
in today from the valley. He says he come to 
tell ye that thar’s trouble at the Verde ranch. 
Foreman Trimble sent him. Thar’s sheep thieves 
around and they’ve been cuttin’ out ewes. That 
right?” queried Salty, turning sharply to the 
Indian. 


The Detection of Blue Horse 45 

The latter nodded his head. “And Trimble 
says he thought ye might want to tell Agent Wy- 
burn.” 

“Is it Injuns?” snapped Senor Oje. 

Blue Horse again nodded approval. 

“Utes?” exclaimed the Mexican, advancing to 
the mounted red man. 

“Utes,” answered the Indian, speaking for the 
first time. 

Then the usually quiet-spoken ranch owner 
suddenly broke into a new question, but this time 
in the Indian tongue. 

“He’s askin’ him ef he ain’t got no letter,” vol- 
unteered Salty Bill. 

But the Indian shook his head. Senor Oje 
eyed him a moment and then, in response to an 
apparent command, the red man slowly dis- 
mounted from his pony, laid the rifle he carried 
and a revolver on the ground at the Mexican’s 
feet and folded his arms. 

“Now, my son,” said Senor Oje in a softer 
voice, taking Elmer by the arm and leading him 
up to the Indian, “tell me your story.” 

“Buck and me,” began Elmer nervously, “had 
charge ob Ned’s freight wagon on de first ex- 
pedition. We was to meet de balloon at de jinin’ 
ob de Amarillo and Chusco ribbers an’ we went 


46 


The Airship Boys 


into camp dar on de 11th ob August. Jes’ afore 
sundown dis Indian rid into de camp. He said 
he was a Navajo and dat we was on dar reserva- 
tion. Den he wanted whisky and when he didn’t 
git it he rid away. Dat night we was attacked 
by Indians. Buck was killed, de horses was stoled 
and I jest escaped ca’se de boys rescued me.” 

Again Senor Oje spoke rapidly to the Indian 
in his own tongue. The motionless savage an- 
swered in the same language. 

“He says he is a good Indian,” explained Salty 
to the others. Senor Oje paused as if in doubt. 

“Look at de hat,” exclaimed Elmer, suddenly, 
grasping Senor Oje’s shoulder. 

Ned sprang forward. “He’s right,” exclaimed 
Ned. “I remember that hat. I know it because 
I was sorry I hadn’t one like it.” 

Without a word Senor Oje stepped to the silent 
Blue Horse and caught the hat in his hand. Not 
even then did the Indian’s face show either fear 
or agitation. As the ranch owner and the two 
boys bent over the head gear — always the chief 
pride of the true plainsman — Blue Horse’s guilt 
was fixed. Just above the leather band buckle, as 
if traced with an indelible pencil, were the letters 
“B. B.” in a circle. 

“The ‘Broken Circle’ brand,” suggested Salty 
Bill, pointing to a break in the irregular ring. 


The Detection of Blue Horse 


47 


“That’s it,” exclaimed Alan who was now in 
the group. “Don’t you remember? The ‘Brok- 
en Circle.’ That’s Mayor Curt Bradley’s cattle 
brand and Buck used to work for him.” 

Without comment Senor Oje motioned all into 
the automobile. Then he picked up Blue Horse’s 
rifle and revolver and placed them on the floor 
of the car. Advancing to the still stolid horse- 
thief he ran his hands deftly through the In- 
dian’s clothes and took from him a knife and its 
scabbard. Then he signed to Blue Horse to 
mount. Salty Bill also sprang on his pony. 

“Salty,” said the now hard-faced ranchman at 
last, “bring Blue Horse to the ranch. If he tries 
to escape, shoot him.” 

“Are you going to arrest him?” asked Ned as 
the car started. 

The stern look had faded from the wealthy 
ranchman’s face. 

“Perhaps,” he answered. “We’ll talk it over 
later.” ^ 

“He’d ought to be shot,” exclaimed Elmer. 

“No doubt,” smilingly answered Senor Oje, 
“where there is plenty of law and justice.” 

Senor Oje’s wife and daughter were in the 
East, but the reception accorded the boys at the 
ranch showed that they were not unexpected by 
the servants. Between the attractions of the 


48 


The Airship Boys 


model ranch with its long, low-galleried house in 
Spanish style, its dozens of out-buildings, barns, 
shops and corrals, and the valley spread out be- 
low like a panorama, the boys hardly knew what 
to exclaim over first, 

“I’m sorry we are going away so soon,” frank- 
ly exclaimed Ned as they alighted from the car 
and turned to drink in the picture before them. 

“Well,” said Senor Oje, “I don’t know why 
you need go at once. This Blue Horse business 
rather upsets calculations, and I’d like time to 
think it over. Why not wait until tomorrow? 
How about it. Major?” 

“Stay, by all means,” laughed Major Honey- 
well. As the face of each boy showed how glad 
he was to make this break in the journey Major 
Honeywell motioned them to the far end of the 
gallery, where a square mission table stood in a 
circle of easy-chairs. 

“Have you got it handy?” exclaimed the Ma- 
jor, turning to Senor Oje. The latter seemed 
to understand, and stepping into what was ap- 
parently a library opening onto the gallery, he 
returned in a moment with a round Indian jar. 

“That’s it,” added Major Honeywell, placing 
the bit of pottery on the little table, “and this is 
where we opened it almost a year ago. Boys, that 
is the cause of all our good and bad fortune.” As 


The Detection of Blue Horse 49 

he spoke he pointed to the letters “Miguel Vas- 
quez” in black on the side of the vessel. “That’s 
what held our secret of the Turquoise Temple. 
That’s what sent you boys in search of treasure. 
That’s what sent good old Buck to his death. Its 
secret has brought us all out here again.” 

Ned took the vase in his hands while the other 
boys crowded close around. Then he held it up 
so that all might see. 

“And I give,” began Ned, “this tribute to old 
Miguel Vasquez, dead these three hundred and 
fifty years; here’s to the memory of a man who 
did much for those who came after him, because 
he went on when others stopped.” 

“Amen,” said Major Honeywell. “I surren- 
der. I guess I’ll have to vote to go ahead — dan- 
ger or no danger.” 


CHAPTER V 

WHY BLUE HORSE WAS RELEASED 

When Salty Bill Donnelly, a little later, came 
slowly up the ranch road with Blue Horse riding 
just ahead of him, Senor Oje and his guests were 
on the gallery. The ranch owner arose, as the 
captor and his prisoner came to a halt at the end 
of the gallery, and walked slowly to the two men. 
Again he addressed the Ute in his own tongue. 
But the red man’s reply did not seem to help 
Senor Oje toward any decision. He gave a sud- 
den order to Salty Bill and the cook and guide 
resumed charge of the prisoner and led him to 
the rear of the ranch house. 

“Ain’t you gwine to lock him up or tie him?” 
asked Elmer. 

Major Honeywell smiled. 

“That’s not necessary,” answered Senor Oje. 
“I’ve told him not to leave.” 

“Will that keep him here?” inquired Bob Rus- 
sell. 

It was now Senor Oje’s turn to smile. But 
Major Honeywell answered: 

“The Indian world of the West isn’t big 
enough,” explained the old soldier, “to hide a man 
50 


Why Blue Horse Was Released 51 


that Senor Oje wants. And this Indian knows 
it. I could tell you a story — ’’ 

Before he could say more Senor Oje, his face 
that of the plain business man once more, inter- 
rupted his friend. 

‘‘Now,” he exclaimed, “you boys go to the horse 
lot and pick out your ponies. And don’t go by 
looks,” he added laughingly. “Take Salty Bill’s 
advice. He’ll rope the ones you want.” 

“I wonder what that story was?” said Ned as 
the four boys took their host’s advice and hastened 
after Salty Bill and the Indian. 

“I don’t know,” answered Bob, “but I can 
imagine. Did you notice Senor Oje’s face when 
he saw the letters on that hat? I’d hate to go 
against him when he’s got his dander up — that’s 
all.” 

“Well, it sent cold chills over me,” commented 
Alan. “And when Major Honeywell began that 
story and I saw how quickly Senor Oje switched 
him off, I felt as if the ranchman must somehow 
have lived two lives.” 

“And in the one we don’t know anything 
about,” quickly added Bob, “if a man, red, white 
or black, did him any harm. I’ll wager Senor Oje 
didn’t wait for the law to give him justice. He 
seems to me just the kind of a man who would 
follow an Indian for weeks — even to his last hid- 


52 


ing place — and then — well, I’d not care to be the 
man he was after.” 

Blue Horse and Salty Bill had dismounted 
near the pony corral. When the boys explained 
what was to be done Salty Bill responded with 
alacrity. He apparently gave no further thought 
to the Indian, who, left to himself, moved out of 
sight among the out-buildings. 

Seen through a crack in the corral fence the 
barn bunch of Oje’s stock seemed dreaming, with 
heads hanging and eyes half closed. But the 
moment Salty Bill entered the enclosure, lariat in 
hand, there was a scamper, a cloud of dust and 
the herd shot away to the far end of the corral. 

“That fellow in front’ll do for me,” shouted the 
exuberant Bob, pointing to a sorrel that led the 
bunch. Then followed the roping of that animal, 
and it did not take Salty Bill long to do it. After 
that a stout halter was put on Bob’s sorrel and 
he led the spirited little beast into a corner. 

“And you?” asked Salty Bill, nodding to Ned. 

“Give me the last one,” laughed Ned. “Bob 
can have ‘Old Speedy’ — I’m satisfied with ‘Old 
Sure Foot.’ ” 

His halter soon held a steady looking bay pony. 

When it was Alan’s turn he said he would go 
in for looks, and he selected a beautiful coal black 
animal. 


Why Blue Horse Was Released 53 

“If you all’s done,” said Elmer at last, “I’se 
gwine show you how sma’t I is. Gib me de calico 
boy same as Salty Bill rides.” 

The stabling of the animals, preparatory to an 
early start the next day, required a little time. 
Salty Bill then showed the boys the interesting 
equipment of the ranch — one of several operated 
by Senor Oje. Almost everywhere the boys went 
they saw Blue Horse just turning the corner 
ahead of them. The freedom allowed to the In- 
dian puzzled the young adventurers. 

When they returned to the front of the ranch 
house evening was coming on. Shadows were 
rolling like waves down the mountain sides into 
the valley beneath. Far to the southwest, a point 
only on the horizon, a glow of pink marked the 
tip of Ute Mountain. Major Honeywell and 
Senor Oje sat on the gallery, silently smoking. 

After a few commonplace remarks Senor Oje 
pressed a button on the wall and ordered the Chi- 
nese boy who responded to ask Mr. Donnelly to 
come to him. Something in his manner betokened 
a crisis. 

“Boys,” he explained, “Major Honeywell and 
I have come to a conclusion in the Blue Horse 
matter.” 

When Salty Bill appeared Senor Oje nodded 
toward the barns and exclaimed: “Get Blue 
Horse.” 


54 


The Airship Boys 


“What you are about to see,” went on Senor 
Oje, turning to his young friends, “will be a bit 
theatric — ” 

Without more explanation he walked silently 
back and forth a few times. Even when the im- 
mobile Blue Horse slipped silently into the open 
space before the gallery the ranchman continued 
his walk without a word. Nor did he even glance 
at the Indian, who stood erect with folded arms. 

“Mr. Donnelly,” exclaimed Senor Oje at last, 
addressing Salty Bill, “I’ve been off the range 
a good many years. I’ve just been wondering if 
I could handle the knife as we used to.” He 
stepped to the cook and took from his belt a keen 
hunting and cook knife. It was a long, two- 
edged weapon. “Give me a mark at forty paces.” 

While the eyes of the spectators opened in won- 
der Salty Bill looked hurriedly about. “Here,” 
added Senor Oje, taking a small business card 
from a case in his pocket. “On that tree,” point- 
ing to a cottonwood something over a hundred 
feet away. 

Salty Bill affixed the card on the tree under a 
loose piece of bark with some difficulty, and then 
stepped aside. Senor Oje had turned his back 
upon the target and stood as if examining the 
weapon in his hands. Thus several moments 
passed. Ned said afterwards that he could see 


Why Blue Horse Was Released 55 

the form of the Mexican growing tense like a 
coiled spring. Then, with a whirl like the snap 
of a whip and a flashlike lunge forward, there 
was a silver streak in the air and the knife sank 
deep into the solid tree. The card fell to the 
ground cut clean into two parts. 

What did it mean? If it concerned Blue Horse 
the Indian gave no sign. 

Senor Oje, unperturbed, lit one of his black 
cigars. Stepping from the gallery he met Salty 
Bill on the driveway. The two veteran plains- 
men stood together and in full view of those on 
the gallery. Then the Mexican took from his 
pocket a silver dollar. He tossed it high in the 
air. Up it rose, then paused, stopped and began 
falling earthward. At that moment Senor Oje’s 
right arm shot forward, grasped the Colt hang- 
ing in Salty Bill’s scabbard and the click and 
flash of the revolver and the metallic ring in mid- 
air told that the shot had gone true. The bit of 
silver, deeply dented, fell at Blue Horse’s feet. 

His arms folded, the Indian gave no sign that 
he saw or was concerned. 

Not even the boys, who sat with craned necks, 
felt at liberty to speak. 

‘T was just curious,” said Senor Oje as he 
walked slowly into the gallery again as if musing. 
“One sometimes loses the trick of these things.” 


56 


The Airship Boys 


Seating himself again he motioned Salty Bill 
to a place on the edge of the gallery. The in- 
creasing glow of the ranch owner’s cigar marked 
the fast gathering gloom. Still no one spoke. 

“Blue Horse,” exclaimed Senor Oje at last. 
“Here!” 

Silently the Ute horse-thief stepped to the edge 
of the gallery. 

“Up here!” repeated Senor Oje, with the cold 
incision of his other nature. With the silent glide 
of a panther the man advanced immediately be- 
fore his interrogator. There was a sudden click 
and a flood of electric light burst from a group 
of bulbs above. For the first time the red man 
flinched, but he recovered instantly and even in 
the white glow his face was set and unmoved. 
Senor Oje sat at his ease. For a moment he said 
nothing and then, flicking the ash from his cigar, 
he remarked, calmly: 

“Blue Horse, you lied to me. We are friends 
no more. You are a thief.” 

“No!” It was the Indian’s first word. 

“That’s why you are a liar. You stole from 
my friends. The friends of the man your people 
killed want you. If they get you they’ll hang 
you.” 

Blue Horse made no answer. 

The Mexican rose from his chair and disap- 


Why Blue Horse Was Released 57* 

peared in the house. A moment later he returned 
with the rifle, revolver and knife that had been 
taken from the savage. To the surprise of most 
of the spectators the ranch owner slipped the re- 
volver into its scabbard and thrust the rifle into 
the hollow of Blue Horse’s arm. Then he turned 
to the group of wide-eyed boys. 

“These young men, Blue Horse, are my 
friends.” There was now no softness in his voice. 
“In two days they will pass through the Ute land. 
Listen! They must go and come unmolested. 
If — ” the speaker paused, hesitated, and then 
continued in the Ute language. It was not a 
great deal that he said but, as he closed his ad- 
monition, Senor Oje leaned forward until his face 
almost touched that of the Indian and the words 
came hke the thrusts of a knife. Once only the 
red man drew back ; then his eyes fell. 

“Understand?” almost whispered the white 
man suddenly. 

“Understand!” repeated Blue Horse. 

“Go!” 

Without a look behind the Indian sprang from 
the gallery and was gone. 

The boys sank back nervously into their chairs. 

“I think supper is ready,” exclaimed Senor 
Oje, once more the soft-voiced host. 

As the little group passed into the house Bob 


58 


The Airship Boys 


Russell, true to his profession, lingered behind. 
When the others were out of hearing he grasped 
Salty Bill by the arm. 

“Say,” he began excitedly, “what did the 
Colonel tell that horse-thief? It must have been 
hot stuff.” 

Salty Bill looked at the young reporter with 
a smile. 

“Why do ye reckon he talked Injun?” he an- 
swered. 

“So the villain could understand,” replied Bob. 

“No,” answered Salty Bill, with another smile, 
“so you uns couldn’t.” 

Bob whistled. “Oh, I see,” he exclaimed. “Then 
you won’t tell!” 

“ ’Tain’t none o’ my affair,” answered Salty 
Bill. And he too disappeared in the direction 
Blue Horse had taken. 

The four boys bunked that night in a dormi- 
tory. When they were at last alone and Bob had 
told his experience with Salty Bill, Ned said: 

“Good for him! You got what was coming to 
you.” 

“Just the same,” went on Bob, somewhat net- 
tled, “I’ll bet I could write out that speech and 
get the sense if I did miss the words.” As he 
said this he caught sleepy Elmer, who was half 
undressed, and jokingly whirled the boy out into 


Why Blue Horse Was Released 59 


the middle of the floor. Then, taking the attitude 
and the voice of Senor Oje, as well as he could, 
he hissed: 

“And if my friends are molested or troubled in 
any manner, by your people, you’ve got to an- 
swer to me. If any Ute touches a hair of my 
friends you’ve got to settle for it — and to me. 
Understand? To me! I’ll follow you through 
every canyon and desert until I find you and 
wdien I do — ” here Bob shook his finger in poor 
Elmer’s face and continued sepulchrally — “I’ll 
cut your heart into a hundred pieces and feed it 
to the starving dogs. Understand?” 

“Look yar,” roared Elmer, struggling, “what 
you all tryin’ to do? Make me see ghoses tonight? 
Loosen me. I ain’t done nothin’.” 

When the laughter had subsided and Elmer 
had been calmed, Alan exclaimed: “At least we 
can understand now what Major Honeywell 
meant. He was going to tell of something Senor 
Oje had once done.” 

“Yes,” added ISTed. “If I were Blue Horse I 
think I’d do as he suggested.” 

“And Blue Horse will,” concluded Bob, releas- 
ing the colored boy. “You mark my word. That 
Indian is making tracks for the reservation this 
minute. We’ll go through Ute land as peacefully 
as if it were a public park.” 


60 


The Airship Boys 


The boys were ready for an early start the next 
morning, but Senor Oje said that there was no 
particular hurry. 

‘T think we’ll give Blue Horse a little time to 
get busy,” he added, laughing. ‘Tt’s only about 
twenty miles from here to Cortez where we meet 
our freight wagons, and we’ll take the day for 
the trip. Tomorrow morning we’ll start from 
Cortez and go on slowly. I think Blue Horse 
can help us if we give him a little time.” 

It was nearly noon when Salty Bill led his cav- 
alcade down the slope on the valley trail. Major 
Honeywell and Senor Oje waved ‘‘good-bye” 
from the bluff. Then, the ranch buildings hav- 
ing disappeared, the Napier expedition found it- 
self at last on the way to Indian land, the wilder- 
ness and mountains, the abandoned balloon and 
the waiting treasure. 


CHAPTER VI 

THE SHOT IN THE CANYON 

The ponies did not in all cases bear out their 
looks. Bob’s fleet courser turned out a loafing 
beast and Elmer’s calico animal resembled Salty 
Bill’s mount only in its spots. But all did well 
enough, and at about five o’clock the little train 
galloped into the main street of Cortez. The gray 
motor, standing before a house somewhat larger 
than its neighbors, told them that Major Honey- 
well and Senor Oje had already arrived and that 
this was the hotel. John Rico and Dan Hears 
were in camp on the far side of the town. 

The ponies were left in the charge of the 
wagon men. Salty Bill preferred the camp to 
the hotel. The rest of the party had supper and 
lodging at the “Montezuma House.” 

At the camp early next morning everything 
was in motion. Breakfast was over; horses were 
hitched to the wagons and the ponies saddled. 
As the wagon men prepared seats for Major 
Honeywell and Senor Oje on the chuck wagon 
and the boys made ready to mount, the ranch 
owner stepped forward. 

61 


62 


The Airship Boys 


“Boys,” he exclaimed good-naturedly, “so far, 
IVe been telling you what to do. Now I salute 
your new commander.” 

As he said this he made a wide sweep of his 
sombrero in Ned’s direction. 

“Three cheers for Ned Napier!” shouted Bob 
Russell. 

Every one gave them with a will. 

With no other ceremony the boys sprang into 
their saddles, the wagon men cracked their whips, 
and with Salty Bill and Ned riding abreast in 
the lead the expedition took its slow course to the 
southwest. About the middle of the morning 
McElmo Creek was forded and then the train 
headed almost due west. At noon a brief halt was 
made. After that the trail grew rapidly more 
difficult. 

When night fell the end of the journey had not 
been reached, but a distant glow of light grew 
larger and larger. 

“That’s the boys from the Mesa Verde ranch,” 
explained Salty Bill to Ned. “They’re in camp 
on McElmo Canyon.” 

The camp fire marked where two sheep men 
from one of Senor Oje’s ranches were waiting 
with a dozen burros. The two parties came to- 
gether between eight and nine o’clock. 

After several conferences with Salty Bill Ned 


The Shot in the Canyon 


63 


advised Senor Oje that they had decided to start 
into the mountains early on the morning of the 
second day. 

“I had supposed we would make our march by 
night,” he explained. “But, as things have 
turned out — ” and all knew he meant the episode 
of Blue Horse — “we have agreed that it would be 
safe and satisfactory to go in by day. Even safer 
day after tomorrow than tomorrow.” 

Salty Bill was already busy. While the tired 
boys inspected the diminutive burros and became 
acquainted with the men in charge of them — Bode 
Cushing and Tomichi, a half breed Jicarilla 
Apache — ^the wagon men backed the chuck wagon 
up to the already blazing camp fire and supper 
was got under way. 

The camp that night was a temporary one, but 
it served the purpose and, about eleven o’clock, 
all were in their blankets and asleep. By night 
of the following day all confusion had given 
place to order. The tent that Major Honeywell 
and Senor Oje were to occupy had been erected 
on the brink of the canyon; the shelter for the 
wagon men had been located between the two 
wagons parked near by; the permanent pot rack 
and cook fire had been located and a supply of 
grease wood gathered. The equipment of the 
expedition had also been divided aud made into 


64 


The Airship Boys 


packs. The supper that night was a farewell 
banquet and Salty Bill’s famous beans were the 
chief dish. 

Sharp at half -past five on the following morn- 
ing the camp was astir. John Rico prepared 
breakfast, for Salty Bill was busy with Bode 
Cushing and Tomichi cinching the packs and 
showing the four boys how it was done. 

Twelve of the hydrogen drums were loaded on 
six burros. Two casks of gasoline formed the 
burden of one more. The camp outfit and pro- 
visions were carried by three animals and two 
were freighted with the black trunk, the rope lad- 
der, the captive balloon and such personal bag- 
gage as the boys could not handle on their own 
ponies. 

Salty Bill’s outfit was not increased by the na- 
ture of the task before him, except as to a simple 
tin canteen, renewed ammunition and an extra 
blanket. To relieve the packs each boy carried 
his own sleeping combination roll — in which was 
packed extra clothes and a rain cape — in cowboy 
fashion on the back of his saddle. In addition to 
his revolver and belt of cartridges and patent felt 
canteen each boy also had some special burden: 
Ned, the binoculars and special compass; Alan, 
the emergency medical and “snake bite” outfit in 
a convenient leather case; Bob Russell, the cam- 


The Shot in the Canyon 


65 


era and extra film rolls and Elmer the sextant 
box. The only rifie in the party was carried by 
Salty Bill. 

Bode Cushing and Tomichi had finished their 
work and the cinched and laden burros, ready for 
the trail, were wandering about in circles. Salty 
Bill, with freshly filled pipe, was already on Spot. 
Senor Oje had just finished a last few minutes 
of talk with the old scout freighter and cook and 
now it was time for the boys to say good-bye. 

Senor Oje and Major Honeywell drew the 
party over to the big tent. Neither man was as 
jovial as Ned would have liked to see him. 

“We’ve said all that need be said,” began Senor 
Oje at last. “You boys know that your success 
depends on keeping cool and using your wits. 
Don’t get excited and don’t separate. As a lit- 
tle mark of my regard for your leader I want to 
make him a present.” 

As he said this he motioned the four boys into 
the tent where, on a cot, rested two new revolvers 
and three beautiful magazine rifles. Selecting 
one of the latter and a belt already filled with 
cartridges, the ranchman presented it to Ned. 
The boy became a little embarrassed. 

“Take it,” continued Senor Oje. “It is a good 
weapon and you may find it useful — if big game 
happens to cross your path.” 


66 


The Airship Boys 


“I accept it,” exclaimed Ned with feeling, “for 
the boys as well as myself. My hope is that we’ll 
never need it.” 

It was an ideal morning for the start. The 
breakfast mess stood neglected while John Rico, 
Dan Mears, Bode Cushing and the half-breed 
Tomichi, their picturesque and variegated cos- 
tumes enlivening the picture, formed a group 
near the impatient burros. Salty Bill Donnelly, 
drawing at his bubbling pipe, drooped limply in 
his saddle. Salty Bill wore no gay colors; there 
was nothing of the scout of romance about him — 
not even long hair. Back of this group the golden 
brown heights of Ute Mountain towered a few 
miles away. To the south and just beyond be- 
gan the ragged foot-hills of the further mount- 
ains, into which the little expedition was now 
abount to enter by unmarked and unknown trails. 

Ned sprang into the saddle, handling his new 
rifle awkwardly, but proud of it. The other boys 
did the same and Salty Bill straightened himself. 

“Good-bye,” exclaimed Ned once again, “and 
we thank you both for all you’ve done.” 

As his sure-footed pony turned and advanced 
to Salty Bill’s side at the head of the train, the 
other boys by direction fell in behind. At the 
same moment Tomichi, the half-breed Jicarilla, 
sprang to the smouldering camp fire and caught 


The Shot in the Canyon 


67 


up two half burned bits of wood. Waving these 
in the soft morning air until they burst into 
flames, he ran to the head of the train and, point- 
ing the blazing sticks toward the south, turned 
and with low obeisance waved the flaming fagots 
in front of Salty Bill and Ned. The boys looked 
on with wonder. Senor Oje laughed. 

“It’s the good luck sign,” he explained. “By 
this fire we light you to safety and success.” 

“Hold it,” came suddenly from the rear. 

It was Bob Russell, high in his stirrups and 
with his ever ready camera focused on the group. 

“All right,” he cried, “I’ve got you — ‘the Na- 
pier Expedition leaving McElmo camp.’ ” 

At exactly twenty-five minutes past six the 
bell on the lead burro fell into its steady, monoto- 
nous tinkle and the expedition set out toward Ute 
Mountain. 

At noon Ned and his friends had pretty well 
skirted the foothills of old Ute and were already 
far enough and high enough in the rough ground 
to see beyond the sterile plain separating them 
from the reservation hills. The course bore south 
and a little west. Salty Bill calculated to hit the 
line dividing Utah and Colorado about where the 
party would enter the second range of hills. 
When a stop was made at twelve o’clock the boys 
expected only a light luncheon, but to their sur- 


68 The Airship Boys 

prise Salty Bill tethered the burros and prepared 
a hot meal. 

“They’s on’y a few rules about freightin’ in the 
desert,” explained the old plainsman. “Keep 
yer head cool, yer feet dry, don’t git in a hurry 
and remember yer stummick.” 

An hour later the trail was resumed. At about 
two o’clock, the burros jogging along at a good 
speed on the down slope. Little McElmo Creek 
was reached. Here the animals were watered and 
then a direct course was laid for a gap in the hills 
five or six miles away. Somewhere between the 
creek and the hills the Ute reservation line was 
crossed and when, at four o’clock, the sand of the 
plains gave way to the rough ground of the hills 
— which could be seen rising beyond in benches to 
almost mountainous heights. Salty Bill estimated 
that twelve miles of rugged trail lay between 
them and Navajo land. 

Cinches were newly tightened and the up- 
climb began at once. Salty Bill now rode a quar- 
ter of a mile in advance at times and Ned fol- 
lowed at the bridle of the bell burro. For a time 
progress was almost as rapid as the advance on 
the plains, and then the burros, recognizing hill 
work, fell into a stubborn, slow pace that showed 
that the hoped-for Navajo land and the boundary 
monument would not be reached that night. Nor 


The Shot in the Canyon 


69 


was progress always forward. As the hills grew 
more precipitous the plainsman on ahead doubled 
on the trail like a railroad winding up a grade 
and now and then the guide awaited the caval- 
cade, to head it onto a new slope. 

But it was all most interesting. As the coun- 
try became more mountainous, valleys began to 
break into the higher ground and now and then 
as these were crossed water was found in slender 
rivulets flowing eastward toward the San Juan. 
About six o’clock a halt was made in a wide can- 
yon at the bottom of which trickled one of these 
small streams. Pine timber covered the lower 
slopes of the rocky defile and extended almost to 
the water. Next to the stream, where the soil had 
washed down from the hill, was a rich growth of 
grass in which bloomed wild verbenas and great 
ox-eyed daisies. 

“Why not stop here tonight?” suggested Ned. 

Salty Bill, without replying at once, began ex- 
amining the location with his trained eye. 

“I ain’t seen a sign o’ Ute today,” he answered 
at last, “and I reckon the friends o’ Blue Horse 
ain’t over curious about us. But it ain’t no use 
to tempt Injuns. I like open ground myself, 
when there’s a bunch o’ us. My own idee is we’d 
’bout as well strike a trail up to the bench,” and 
he pointed to a shoulder of the canyon on the 


70 


The Airship Boys 


south which seemed to promise a flat, treeless level. 

The boys had been giving little thought to dan- 
ger, and this caution somewhat alarmed them. 
But Ned at once approved the suggestion, and 
Salty Bill, springing on his pony, said that he 
would ride on through the timber and, if possible, 
pick up a new trail on the far side of the canyon. 
When he had gone the boys made the most of the 
welcome pause. Nearly a half hour passed and 
night was beginning to arrive in the depths of the 
canyon. Bob Russell was hastening a series of 
snap shots in the last full light of the sun and the 
other boys were posing for him in various atti- 
tudes when, suddenly, the report of a rifle startled 
them. 

The shot was not in the immediate vicinity. If 
it was Salty Bill shooting at some animal, thought 
the boys, he must have gone some distance. 

‘T suppose he means for us to come ahead,” 
suggested Alan. 

But Ned shook his head. 

“We’d better get ready and wait,” he said. 

The boys mounted again and Ned took his 
place by the lead burro. 

“Maybe he’s lost and wants a signal,” volun- 
teered Bob at last. 

“Salty Bill lost — here?” replied Ned, smiling. 
“Hardly.” 


The Shot in the Canyon 


71 


As the shadows deepened and there was neither 
sight nor sound of their guide the boys’ appre- 
hension began at last to grow into nervousness. 
Another ten minutes passed with no sound in the 
gathering gloom but the soft gurgle of the little 
stream. The silent waiting had now brought to 
all the boys a dread belief that some accident had 
befallen their guide. Then suddenly the veteran 
plainsman slipped silently out of the nearby trees 
with a hand extended in a sign that every one read 
at a glance — “Silence.” 

Without a word Salty Bill almost slid to the 
lead burro and unbuckled its bell. Then, with 
hand raised again, he took the animal by the hal- 
ter and started rapidly along the bank of the 
stream. 

Not a question was asked and the old man vol- 
unteered no information. Avoiding fallen tim- 
ber and underbrush the little train advanced 
quickly and silently through the shadows of the 
dense pines. After traversing perhaps a quarter 
of a mile Salty Bill turned sharply toward the 
creek. There, under the bank, stood his pony. 
Quickly remounting, the guide forded the stream, 
and then, in the open, urged the burros forward 
into a quick trot. 

As the boys and their leader entered the pine 
timber on the far side of the creek the train fell 


72 


The Airship Boys 


into a walk again, emerging at last near the north 
side of the canyon. Then every one recognized 
Salty Bill’s object. They were on the back trail 
and making for the high ground from which they 
had recently descended. 

“Going up?” whispered Ned at last, attempt- 
ing to conceal his nervousness. 

“Ef we kin,” said Salty Bill in a low, sober 
voice. “But there’s Utes ahead of us and, meb- 
be, behind us.” 

“But Blue Horse—” answered Ned quickly. 

“Mebbe they was only jokin’,” said Salty Bill. 
“But the Ute ye heerd shootin’ made me hear 
bees. An’ God pity Blue Horse when old man 
Oje hears about this.” 


CHAPTER VII 

THE ATTACK OF THE UTES 

With unerring frontier skill Salty Bill had in- 
stantly guided his charges back to the end of the 
canyon trail by which the party had made its way 
from the higher ground. Even the boys could 
now recognize the fresh hoof -marks of their ani- 
mals in the more open soil where the larger tim- 
ber gave way to pinon growth. Finally, as the 
trees broke into isolated clumps and the rocky 
path down which they had just traveled came 
once more into view, Salty Bill called a halt. 

“WeVe got the rocks behind us now,’’ he said, 
“and we’ll wait here a spell. Ef this ain’t a false 
alarm and anyone tries to make trouble in front 
we kin fall back on the trail, mebbe.” 

“Why not do it now?” asked Ned. 

“Wal,” slowly answered Salty Bill, “thet thar 
path ain’t what ye’d call kivered. And ef thar’s 
anyone around yar who wants to practice shootin’ 
I reckon we’d make purty good marks lined up 
agin the rocks.” 

The red glow of the sun just reached the high- 
er slopes of the canyon face and everyone instantr 
ly appreciated the wisdom of the old scout’s ad- 
73 


74 


The Airship Boys 


vice. The trail itself could not be seen but the 
boys hoped that behind them at least was escape. 

“And if we do have to go back,” expostulated 
Ned, “what about going on, later?” 

“Don’t figger so fur ahead,” answered Salty 
Bill. “Git out o’ one trouble afore ye look fur 
more.” 

“Do you think there’s much danger?” inter- 
posed Bob. 

“Much danger?” repeated Salty Bill. “Son, 
there’s always more or less danger when a feller’s 
shootin’ at ye. And the Ute who tried to git me 
didn’t think I was no deer neither. That reminds 
me — ” went on the veteran but he stopped short. 

“Did you see that?” exclaimed Ned, half un- 
der his breath. 

But the alert guide had seen all that the ob- 
servant boy had. At that moment, a faint form 
moving among the distant pines, suddenly 
emerged a half naked mounted Indian. The 
pony of the savage dashed into the clearing, its 
owner swung a rifle with a yell of deflance and 
then whirled his animal again to cover. He 
reached it, but before the other boys knew what 
was happening Salty Bill’s rifle had. spoken from 
his hip. The guide did not even pause to aim the 
weapon. The challenge had been given and ac- 
cepted. 


The Attack of the Utes 


75 


“Blue Horse has just about the same as com- 
mitted suicide,” observed Salty Bill coldly. “Now, 
you boys git them burros and yerselves behind 
the rocks.” As he spoke he indicated an almost 
semi-circle of rock fragments lying at the foot of 
the trail, a fallen bit of the canyon side. Salty 
Bill himself sat erect and unmoving on his pony. 

“What about yourself?” asked Ned an^^iously 
as the boys made haste to carry out instructions. 

“I ain’t crowded yit,” came the answer. At the 
same moment Ned saw Salty Bill’s hand tighten 
on his bridle rein. Six hundred yards away two 
Indians rode silently from the deeper woods. 
Pausing a moment they advanced a short distance 
into the sparse timber. As they did so Salty Bill 
rode forward. Again the Indians advanced. 
Salty Bill did the same. Whether this meant 
peace or danger Ned did not know; but he did 
know that it was two to one and — ^the burros and 
the other boys being now behind the rock barri- 
cade — Ned’s sense of fairness got the better of 
his discretion. He swung himself onto his own 
pony and, very quietly, followed Salty Bill. 

When the white man and his red opponents 
were within two hundred yards of each other there 
was a sharp stop. Then, with no word and no 
sign. Salty Bill, his rifle on his knees, slowly drew 
out, charged and lit his pipe. Was this another 


76 


The Airship Boys 


play? Ned’s lips were dry with nervous concern. 
It seemed so much like a picture ; so much like a 
scene from a play that he wondered if men so 
calmly indifferent could really have murder in 
their hearts. 

Something in the still oppressiveness of the 
situation seemed to hypnotize him. Then there 
was the feeling that he would soon awaken and 
find it all a dream. 

Nor was this feeling changed when he became 
conscious that the two Indians were slowly and 
silently turning away. Finally he saw only the 
backs of the two savages and then — three shots 
rang out almost together. The treacherous Utes 
had whirled in their tracks and fired point blank 
at Salty Bill. But they did not catch that worthy 
unprepared. The lunging horse of one Indian 
and the prostrate figure of its rider as he wildly 
clasped the animal’s mane showed that the scout’s 
answering shot had not been wasted. 

Twice again the rifle snapped, the red spurts 
of fire now showing plainly in the falling night. 
Salty Bill’s pony sprang forward, veered to the 
right and sank to the ground. The scout’s second 
shot had not gone true and his luckier enemy 
hurled himself forward on his scampering beast. 
A chorus of savage shouts arose from the timber. 
Salty Bill’s rifle was at his feet. The dismounted 


The Attack of the Utes 


77 


guide’s revolver was already in his hand, but the 
last plunge of his pony jerked the bridle rein yet 
in Salty Bill’s grasp and his revolver shot plowed 
up the stony ground. 

The Ute’s rifle was again at his shoulder, but 
the crack of Ned’s gun sent a bullet into the 
man’s chest. Salty Bill turned. With a quick 
motion Ned spurred his animal to the guide’s side, 
and then. Salty Bill’s hand grasping the saddle 
pommel, the pony galloped quickly back to the 
barricade. A half dozen shots followed in the 
wake of Ned and the rescued guide, but the only 
result was splinters of granite from the face of 
the rocks. 

“Ye shouldn’t ’a’ done that, son,” exclaimed 
Salty Bill, “withouten orders. But I’m obliged 
to ye jist the same.” 

Even as he spoke the plainsman’s rifle was mak- 
ing it dangerous for a Ute to advance far into 
the open. But now it could be plainly seen that 
their enemies were many in number and certainly 
looking for trouble. 

“Things always seem to happen after dark,” 
exclaimed Bob Russell when it was seen that 
Salty Bill and Ned were unharmed, “just when I 
can’t get a good snap shot. I’d like to git a snap 
at a real, fighting Indian.” 

Salty Bill looked at him curiously. 


78 


The Airship Boys 


“That’s right,” he said, “I can’t never seem to 
git ’em to perform jist like I’d like neither. I 
like ’em in daylight too.” 

But the hearts of the boys were not as light as 
their tongues. Salty Bill did what he could to 
assure them that so far they had the better of it. 

“We’re protected and they ain’t,” he explained, 
“and ef they hold off till it’s dark we’ll try to git 
onto the high ground. We may lose some bag- 
gage, but we ain’t a goin’ to lose no lives, I 
reckon. At the worst, I allow they’ll be satisfied 
ef we turn our stock loose.” 

“Never,” exclaimed Ned. “At least not as 
long as we’ve got a cartridge.” 

Salty Bill shrugged his shoulders. “I’ve done 
it with ’em many a time,” he said slowly, “or I 
wouldn’t ’a’ been here now.” 

But the enemy apparently did not mean to wait 
for complete darkness. The eagle-eyed Salty Bill 
at that moment saw two more Utes crawling for- 
ward toward his dead pony. Spot, no doubt intent 
on recovering the pony’s saddle and bridle. As 
he called Ned’s attention to the Indians, the boy’s 
rifle rose to his shoulder. 

“Wait,” cautioned the scout, “till they git 
closter. I’ll give the word.” 

It isn’t a pleasant thing to find yourself sud- 
denly turned executioner of a human being, but 


The Attack of the Utes 


79 


Ned’s soul was full of bitterness. The possibility 
that these miscreants might block his long cher- 
ished plans ; the recollection of how these Utes had 
cruelly murdered Old Buck ; his sense of responsi- 
bility for those with him and, above all, his belief 
that every man has a right to protect his own life 
hardened his young heart. Perhaps it also 
steadied his eye. 

“Take the one on the right,” whispered Salty 
Bill. “Now!” 

Almost together two shots sounded. The In- 
dian on the left stumbled, rose and then ran quick- 
ly toward the timber. The one on the right sank 
to the ground like an empty meal bag. 

Immediately the cries in the distant trees broke 
out with redoubled vigor. 

“I don’t suppose you notice no difference,” ex- 
claimed Salty Bill quickly, “but they’re cornin’. 
They ain’t a goin’ to wait fur dark. Now, boys, 
don’t be skeered. Injun fightin’ is half bluff and 
yellin’. Ef any o’ ye git accidental wounded I kin 
take keer o’ ye. Am’ it’ll be all over in a few days. 
Just spread out thar and don’t show yerselves 
exceptin’ when ye shoot. Git your belts ready an’ 
don’t shoot to make a noise. Shoot to kill. Am’ 
wait till they’re dost — them as has revolvers. 
Don’t git skeered. Why,” and the old campaign- 
er laughed, “ye’ll all be a’tellin’ yer children 


80 


The Airship Boys 


’bout this rumpus some day, and how not one o’ 
ye had no panic.” 

Crude as Salty Bill’s philosophy may have been 
it had its effect. Not a boy in the party but said 
to himself that he would be the last to show the 
white feather. The yells continued, louder. 
Salty Bill took another look at the ponies and 
burros. Instinctively, apparently, the animals 
had bunched themselves, and they stood in a close 
group behind the rocks. The boys themselves 
cou^d scarcely be seen. Each one had selected a 
niche presenting a peep-hole of advantage. Ned 
took one end of the barricade and Salty Bill the 
other. 

The attack was not to be delayed many mo- 
ments. Salty Bill wondered whether it was yet 
dark enough to attempt a retreat. At the same 
time he glanced once again at the trail behind 
him. The old scout’s heart sank — not through 
fear, but because he realized the danger in which 
his charges were placed. Far up the trail, the 
fading glow now making it just discernible. Salty 
Bill saw, dimly silhouetted against the rocks, the 
figure of a mounted Indian. 

“They got us cornin’ an’ goin’,” said the old 
man to himself. “I guess they been awaitin’ to 
block the trail.” 

Even as he looked, there was a single shot to 


The Attack of the Utes 


81 


the far right of the barricade and then, almost 
with it, the crash of a concerted discharge and the 
sodden smack of lead on the rocks that told that 
the charge was on. There was no answer; the 
barricaded expedition was holding its fire. Again 
came a volley. Bob Russell dropped to the 
ground, but it was only a bullet through his hat. 
Then an irregular fusillade began. 

Suddenly Salty Bill felt a hand on his sleeve. 
It was Ned’s. 

“Don’t you think we’d better try the trail?” 
asked Ned in a whisper. “We’re bound to be 
surrounded here. And they may block us in the 
rear.” 

Salty Bill shook his head. 

“They’ve done that a’ready,” he said, soberly 
but so that the other boys could not hear him. 
“The trail’s blocked now.” 

Ned followed the old scout’s gaze. Sure 
enough, there, hugging the clinging shelf on the 
canyon side, rode a lone Indian. 

At that instant the crack of a revolver sounded 
in the barricade. Then another. Salty Bill and 
Ned impulsively sprang up and glanced quickly 
over the rocks. A dozen or more Utes could be 
seen crouching low and advancing rapidly. 

“Not yet,” cautioned Salty Bill. “They ain’t 
dost enough. Take yer time. Kill one outside 


82 The Airship Boys 

and one when they git in an’ we’re all right. 
Steady, hoys.” 

But Ned and the scout used their rifles and at 
least one Ute came no farther. 

“Let ’em come right up,” called out Salty Bill 
once more. “An’ that’s five dead Injuns. 
Steady, boys.” 

But the strain was too much for Alan, Bob and 
Elmer. One after another they fired in spite of 
themselves, to Salty Bill’s disgust. 

Even as the veteran freighter spoke his listen- 
ing ear detected a sudden cessation, in part, of 
the spattering shots. 

He was apprehensive of a final rush, and 
sprang to his outlook to see what it meant. The 
Ute fire was now only occasional, but there was 
no sign of immediate attack. Salty Bill was non- 
plussed. The valley below was black. The pine 
forest was in cwilight gloom, but even in it In- 
dians could be seen grouping themselves and then 
falling hack. The scout was puzzled. It did not 
reassure him, for he took every act of the red man 
by contraries. He would have been glad, if the 
attack had to come, to have had it before night 
had wholly fallen. While he was striving in vain 
to solve the puzzle and to find some reason for 
the sudden cessation of hostilities, his arm was 
touched again. 


The A ttack of the Utes 83 

“What do you make of that?” whispered Ned 
sharply. 

He pointed to the trail above. The lone In- 
dian was now far down the canyon side. But, on 
a pole, waving over his head, was a bit of white — 
the universal symbol of peace. The horseman was 
descending rapidly and the white cloth was plain- 
ly perceptible in the gloom. 

“What do I make of it?” queried Salty Bill — 
then he turned again and looked over the barri- 
cade. The firing had wholly ceased. The plains- 
man’s brow was wrinkled in thought. “I don’t 
make nothin’ of it but — say,” and the old scout’s 
face lit up with the thought. Another long glance 
at the hastening horseman on the trail and he 
turned to the boys. 

“I guess ye kin put up your weepins,” he ex- 
claimed. “I reckon old Blue Horse has saved his 
bacon.” 

In the dead silence of another five minutes the 
barricaded expedition watched and waited. The 
oncoming horseman disappeared in the pinon 
growth at the foot of the trail and then Blue 
Horse, the despised Ute, rode into the barricade. 

“How!” he exclaimed, his face as stolid as ever. 

“Howl” replied Salty Bill with as little ex- 
pression as the Indian. 

Then the scout jerked his thumb over the bar- 


84 


The Airship Boys 


ricade toward the now silent and hidden attackers. 

Blue Horse whirled his pony around the 
stone heap and advanced a few paces. Then the 
hollow air of the canyon resounded with a reso- 
nant Ute cry. Only echoes rolled up and down 
the ravine. Again the passive Blue Horse called. 
This time, with the echoes, came an answer. The 
Ute horseman, thrusting his heels into his pony’s 
side, sprang forward into the gloom. When he 
had disappeared Salty Bill exclaimed: 

“He made good, but it was by a scratch. Ye’re 
as safe tonight, boys, as ef ye was in yer mother’s 
bed at home. That Blue Horse is surely a wise 
guy.” 


CHAPTER VIII 

FORDING THE SAN JUAN 

The loss of Salty Bill’s pony seemed to the boys 
a serious matter. When Ned suggested alternat- 
ing in the use of his animal the plainsman said : 

“When Blue Horse hears what’s happened, I’ll 
hev a pony. Don’t ye fret about that.” 

Salty Bill now announced that the night camp 
would be on the creek at the bottom of the can- 
yon. Readjusting the bell on the head burro the 
nervy guide, whose assurance of present safety 
was contagious, took that animal’s halter and once 
again set out through the timber. As the boys be- 
came confident that the enemy had withdrawn, re- 
lief took the place of concern and, when the open 
grass of the canyon bottom was finally entered, 
there was even a little joviality. 

Salty Bill had located a camp site and Elmer 
and Bob started the fire while the rest of the party 
relieved the pack animals of their loads. The 
glow of the camp-fire turned the waxen green of 
the nearest pines into glints of gold ; beyond was 
only blackness. Ebony walls marked the canyon 
sides. 


85 


86 The Airship Boys 

“I suppose they can see our fire?” suggested 
Alan at last. 

“See it?” grunted Salty Bill. “They ain’t do- 
in’ a thing but settin’ up thar some’er now a 
watchin’ us. And right among ’em is Blue Horse 
a laying down the law. An’ say, that Injun is in 
the biggest sweat o’ his life right this minute. 
The least we’ll get’ll be a new pony.” 

“An’ that reminds me,” exclaimed Salty Bill 
as he came into the circle of light carrying a 
bucket of cool canyon water, “most o’ you East- 
ern chaps is crazy about washin’ yerselves. Ef 
you kids want a bath go and git it now afore ye 
eat. Then we’ll have a batch o’ pancakes, some 
fried ham and coffee and ef ye’r still hongry a 
bite o’ cheese.” 

Ned slapped his leg. “I didn’t really know 
what was the matter with me,” he laughed. “I 
want a souze.” 

The four boys acted on Salty Bill’s suggestion. 
They were in the midst of their frolic when the 
guide began pounding on a tin pan with a cook 
spoon and calling, “Chuck’s ready!” 

Half dressed, but with bodies aglow with health 
and vigor, the boys squatted on the soft grass and 
attacked the ham and pancakes. 

“Right now,” exclaimed Bob Russell, “I vote 
for cheese and the limit.” 


Fording the San Juan 


87 


When, at last, the old freighter knocked the 
ashes from his pipe, Ned looked at his watch. 

“Holy Smoke!” he exclaimed. “Eleven o’clock! 
Lights out, everybody, and turn in.” 

“An’ don’t you boys be pilin’ out afore day,” 
admonished Salty Bill as he extinguished the fire. 
“We’ve got plenty of time fur this job and we 
don’t make no railroad connections in this coun- 
try. Remember yer stummick, git yer natural 
sleep and don’t hurry. Now turn in an’ sleep 
yer heads off.” 

The sun was well in the sky before its rays 
reached into the cool depths of the canyon, and it 
was six o’clock before even Ned was astir. When 
he stuck his head out of the tent he could not 
restrain an exclamation of surprise. The smoke 
of the morning camp-fire was curling straight up- 
ward and Salty Bill was busy with kettle and pot. 
And just opposite, squatted on the grass, sat Blue 
Horse. Behind him, the reins on the ground, a 
beautiful spotted Indian pony nibbled at the rich 
herbage. Ned wakened the other boys and then 
threw back the curtain flap. 

“Well, if that wouldn’t freeze you!” exclaimed 
Bob Russell. 

“And, say,” laughed Alan, “if Salty Bill will 
come to Chicago and turn fortune teller he can 
have my trade.” 


88 


The Airship Boys 


But Elmer shook his head. “If dat Injun is 
waitin’ fo’ breakfas’, you needn’t ’spect me to 
he’p cook it. I ain’t no use fo’ no horse-thieves — 
and worse.” 

“There’s the pony all right,” explained Salty 
Bill when the boys appeared, “and Blue Horse 
says he’s goin’ to take us through the reservation. 
I reckon we’ll have to give him a clean bill, eh?” 

The Indian was given food and drink, which he 
accepted with dignity and without comment. 
While camp was being struck Blue Horse walked 
slowly into the pine timber, but he returned in a 
few moments on his own pony. In the Ute 
tongue the guide explained the destination of the 
party — the boundary monument — and with only 
a grunt of acknowledgment Blue Horse plunged 
into the stream, entered the timber and in a few 
moments was leading the expedition up the south 
slope of the canyon. 

This day’s progress was rapid. When the hot 
southern sun was just overhead, the party reached 
the highest point of the day’s climb. For an hour 
the train had been working up the side of a pre- 
cipitous rise by way of a sharp, shelving trail in 
more than one part of which a misstep would 
have meant death. 

Ned and Salty Bill held council with Blue 
Horse. The elevated plain or plateau on which 


f'ording the San Juan 


89 


they now paused extended into yet higher and 
rougher ground to the south. Where this ground 
broke into almost mountainous formation a de- 
file or valley gave a glimpse of still higher peaks 
in the misty blue distance. 

“One o’ them,” explained Salty Bill, “is yer 
Mount Wilson whar ye was on yer other trip.” 

To the right and west the plateau shelved 
rapidly downward. Its rugged slopes were 
spotted here and there with timber and at its base 
a yellow expanse indicated the desert. In this, 
however, a brown line could be traced. 

“And down thar,” continued Salty Bill, “is 
the San Juan. Ye can’t git nowhar till ye cross 
that.” 

Further consultation with the Indian revealed 
that the state boundary monument, that, was to 
mark the starting point into the Tunit Cha wil- 
derness, was on the north slope of the low range 
just ahead. If they advanced to that point they 
would find the trail beyond rougher and more 
difficult. If they made a descent into the desert 
of the San Juan they would be somewhat off the 
projected advance, but as more speed was possi- 
ble by this course it was chosen. Ned calculated 
that in doing this they would pass out of Colo- 
rado, where they then were, into Utah and 
thence into Arizona where the San Juan river cut 


90 The Airship Boys 

the line about four miles west of the Colorado 
and Utah line. 

But the decision did not suit Bob Russell. 

“I had it all planned,’’ exclaimed the young 
reporter. “I was going to get a snap-shot of 
that boundary mark and now my Sunday special 
article is spoiled. Why, think of it! If I sat 
down on that spot I might be in Utah, Colorado, 
Arizona and New Mexico all at once.” 

“I’m sorry,” laughed Ned, “but I read of one 
newspaper man who starved and died in the wil- 
derness because he went out of his way to find 
picturesque trouble. We’ll miss all that we can.” 

“You’re right, of course,” answered the smiling 
Bob. “But I wish something would happen. It’s 
pretty dull — ” 

Salty Bill grunted. Leaning lazily on his sad- 
dle and drawing slowly on his pipe, the old scout 
fixed his gaze on Bob. 

“Son,” he exclaimed with a drawl, “that re- 
minds me o’ somepin’. Onct when I was freightin’ 
down Tucson way they was a tall man in a white 
shirt who dropped off thar and told us at the 
eatin’ house that he was a writin’ man. He said 
he was a lookin’ fur ‘bad men’ and ‘color,’ what- 
ever that meant. But they warn’t no bad men 
on exhibition and the stranger fin’ly allowed it 
was the dullest town he ever see. I kind o’ felt 


Fording the San Juan 


91 


sorry fur him and jist to cheer him up I took him 
to a fonda run by a greaser, fur a game o’ cards. 
But the stakes was low and it was so quiet that 
the stranger was a yawnin’. He was willin’ to 
make the stakes higher but we was poor men, be- 
cause it was only me and two other freighters 
named Hank Kruise and another feller, we called 
‘Jimmy’ because he was a greaser named Ximen- 
ez. It was that dull the flies wa’nt even buzzin’. 
Finally they was a pot so small that the writin’ 
man throwed down his hand and quit. And I 
stayed out ’cause it was Hank’s deal an’ I most- 
ly stayed out then, but without no remarks. Well, 
sir, when Hank and Jimmy showed their hands 
I see five aces between ’em. Ye couldn’t see much 
more for the smoke. Jimmy he lived an hour, but 
Hank never moved ’till we laid him out. I never 
see the stranger agin, but I was reli’bly informed 
he went right over to the deepo and set thar till 
the train kem along.” 

Bob looked at Salty BiU and then at the boys 
and laughed. 

“You mustn’t take me too seriously. Salty 
Bill,” he said, as the old guide resumed his pipe. 
“But I deserved it.” 

It was just noon. As there was neither wood 
nor water on the plateau, the decision was to alter 
the course, descend at once to the plain below and 


02 


The Airship Boys 


push on to the bank of the San Juan. A little 
after two o’clock Ned, Salty Bill and Blue 
Horse, hastening ahead, reached the river. The 
stream itself was not large, but its canyon-like 
sides alarmed Ned. With hardly a foothold for 
man or beast, the sheer sides of the deep-cut water 
course sank in two or three benches to the brown 
current a hundred feet or more below the level 
of the desert. The boy said nothing, but Salty 
Bill understood his look. 

“O, we’ll git over, some way. There’s usually 
a trail — somewhar.” 

He appealed to Blue Horse. But the Indian 
shook his head. 

“Then,” went on Salty Bill, “we’ll have dinner 
and the burros kin look at the water whilst Blue 
Horse and me reconnoitres fur a crossin’.” 

In a short time the two men set out on their 
mission. It was hot on the sandy brink of the 
canyon and the animals were restless and thirsty, 
but after several attempts the boys gave up 
trying to reach the water below. They were 
glad enough when, about four o’clock, they 
heard a shot far to the east and, with the binocu- 
lars, made out Salty Bill signaling them to ad- 
vance. Blue Horse, who had gone west, had not 
returned, hut there was no need to wait for him. 
He would understand and follow. 


Fording the San Juan 


93 


The crossing found by the guide brought the 
expedition back almost to the state line and, as 
Ned calculated, within a mile of the much dis- 
cussed boundary monument. Just here, the des- 
ert disappeared in a broken range of cliffs and 
peaks, through which the San Juan cut a still 
deeper course. But the now rocky nature of one 
side of the canyon presented footholds, while the 
opposite bank seemed to promise a difficult but 
possible ascent. 

Salty Bill’s judgment was right. A trail 
leading to the bottom of the canyon was found, 
and then, much to the guide’s chagrin, it was 
discovered that the stream had a depth of about 
four feet. There was no use in wasting time in 
regrets. Each pack would have to be unloaded 
and carried over by man. This task was begun at 
once. One by one the ponies were led slowly 
down the trail, slipping and sliding, and then, 
after a drink in the stream, turned loose on the 
opposite shore. All the boys stripped and tied 
their clothes in bundles, and Alan and Bob pre- 
ceded the animals and were ready to recover each 
beast as it made its way to the top of the other 
canyon side. When the burros were all safely 
tethered on the far bank every one tackled the 
outfit baggage. 

The transfer of one of the hydrogen drums 


94 > 


The Airship Boys 


took two of the boys something like a quarter of 
an hour of laborious work. But time passed 
rapidly and Blue Horse had rejoined the party 
long before the portage was complete. The In- 
dian did not volunteer to assist. For a time he 
stood stolidly by his pony’s side and then, the 
work nearing completion, he descended to the 
water’s edge. His pony he left on the cliff above. 

At this moment Alan and Elmer were slowly 
descending the precarious trail with the last hy- 
drogen cylinder. They had almost reached the 
water’s edge when Elmer slipped and the valve 
end of the two hundred pound steel drum fell 
from his hands. The sharp crash of the valve 
head on the rocks was followed by a reverberating 
explosion. A cloud of dust and gravel filled the 
air. The valve had been wrenched or broken and 
six thousand feet of hydrogen gas under three 
thousand pounds pressure to the square inch were 
pouring from the cyhnder with cannon-like ex- 
plosions. 

The deflected blast struck the naked colored 
boy on the back and he was thrown forward by 
the blow. Unable to recover himself, Elmer fell, 
striking his head against the side of the canyon 
and then the dazed boy, before Alan could grasp 
him, rolled over and with two sickening bounds 
dropped from the narrow trail into the water. 


Fording the San Juan 


95 


The roaring cylinder, its released gas almost 
boring a cavity into the solid rock, rolled slowly 
downward. Alan made one desperate effort to 
stop it, but the shower of gas and dust blinded 
him and, gathering speed, the drum slipped from 
the trail and hurled itself directly at the form of 
Blue Horse. Before the latter could spring 
aside the cylinder struck the Indian on the arm 
and then, with a seemingly redoubled roar, 
plunged into the water just over the spot where 
the body of Elmer had disappeared. 

Instantly a geyser of foam flung itself into the 
air. The free gas, tearing through the water, 
created a whirlpool of foam and spray. The 
explosion of a submarine mine could not have 
lashed the water into more violent commotion. 

Alan, his face blanched with the knowledge 
that in that foaming, bubbling eddy poor Elmer 
was lying unconscious, sprang wildly forward. 
But a dark form at the water’s side was quicker. 
Without even waiting to recover an erect posi- 
tion the taciturn Blue Horse slid into the water 
like a snake. And before even Alan could reach 
the edge of the now swirling torrent the Indian, 
with the unconscious Elmer in his sinewy arms, 
was slowly fording the stream to the further 
bank. 


CHAPTER IX 

A TRAIL BY COMPASS 

Ned and Salty Bill sprang to the rescue. They 
and the Indian soon had the unconscious boy on 
the cliff. The time the lad was in the water had 
been so brief that resuscitation was almost im- 
mediate. Then some one thought of the Indian. 

Blue Horse was gone. 

Salty Bill summed it up in a sentence: “This 
is Navajo land and I reckon he thinks his work 
is done.” 

Without even accepting food the proud sav- 
age had disappeared. Elmer’s regret was keen- 
est. 

“He certainly was on the square with us,” said 
Ned. 

Salty Bill grunted. “On the square?” he re- 
peated. “Mebbe. But that reminds me — ” sup- 
per was over and they were lying about the glow- 
ing fire and Salty Bill’s pipe was going. “Onct, 
’tain’t no matter when, but ’twas afore any o’ you 
boys was borned, I was prospectin’ down in the 
White Mountains o’ Arizony. We had a fall 
o’ snow that laid us up fur six weeks. When I 
couldn’t stand it no longer, I figgered out a pair 


A Trail hy Compass 


97 


o’ snow shoes and set out fer some recreation 
down to Globe. An’ I reckon I’d a got thar ef 
I hadn’t stopped in the valley to hev a peek into 
the meanest lookin’ hogan ye ever see. An’ 
talk o’ yer misery — inside was a woman and a 
baby froze to death an’ a ’Pache Injun dyin’ o’ 
cold and no food. As I didn’t really hev nothin’ 
in particular to do I rigged up a sled out o’ the 
sides o’ the shack and hauled that Injun seven 
miles up the mountain to the cabin. And he et 
hisself back into the gratefullest redskin you 
ever see.” 

The old freighter recharged his pipe slowly, 
replenished the fire and continued. 

‘T was thinkin’ about a Injun bein’ on the 
square. This ’ere same ’Pache hung around our 
cabin, huntin’ fur us and totin’ wood, all winter. 
In the spring my pardner got tired and quit. 
And havin’ nothing else to do I come down with 
a fever. I reckin they was two weeks I was 
locoed fur sure. Leastways that ’Pache nussed 
me night and day till I could eat agin and then 
he fed me another week till I allowed I’d try and 
git up the next mornin’. He was that overjoyed 
you couldn’t tell it. But they wasn’t no chuck 
pan a heatin’ fer me the next mornin’. My nuss 
jist kind o’ resigned while I was asleep that 
night. I didn’t mind the dust and nuggets and 


98 


The Airship Boys 


camp truck he took with him, but I was sure sore 
about my shirt and pants. And he was as square 
a Injun as I ever knowed.” 

The next morning, October 5, found every 
one refreshed and astir early. While breakfast 
was sizzling Ned outlined again his immediate 
plans. Pointing across the canyon of the San 
Juan to the hills beyond he said: 

‘Tf we were on the north side of that south 
range we should be at the juncture of the four 
states and territories. Then, if we imagined an 
immense parallelogram 17.7 miles wide — east 
and west — and 34.5 miles long — north and south 
— ^with its northeast corner touching the point at 
which we stood, the southwest corner would 
mark the location of the mesa.” 

By this he meant latitude 36° 44' 25" north 
and longitude 109° 7' 30" west. 

“My suggestion is this,” continued Ned: “It is 
impossible for us to measure our advance exactly 
and we should not know when we had reached 
17.7 miles west. I recommend a compass course 
straight through the mountains to the southwest. 
We are now a little southeast of the boundary 
monument. When we start we will move west 
until we are in a north and south line and esti- 
mate our distance from the monument at one 
mile. That simply shortens our north and south 


A Trail by Compass 


99 


distance to 33.5 miles. Using that line as a base 
we will lay our course along the longest hypoth- 
enuse of our base line, 43 miles — ” 

Salty Bill whistled and turned to his frying 
bacon. 

“Go ahead,” he laughed. “Don’t ye mind me. 
But don’t fergit; this hypota-what-you-call-’em 
has got to hit water now and then.” 

“That’s where the navigator gives way to the 
steward,” said Ned, laughing in turn. “But 
anyway we’ll go ahead on that line.” 

Following the brink of the river west, advance 
was made until the compass showed that the party 
was just south of the boundary mark north of 
the canyon. Then a short halt was made. 

“The course by compass,” explained Ned, “as 
I have already laid it out on paper will be south- 
west by west one-half. This means that a straight 
advance a little over five compass degrees west 
of the southwest line will in time hit the mesa.” 

He had adjusted the compass on the ground 
until the needle stopped on the north and south 
line. Then, on the compass face, he laid a straight 
bit of cardboard until its edge marked SW by 
W Carefully sighting along the line of the 
card he fixed the furthest characteristic point on 
the horizon — a saddle-like cliff in the distant 
mountains. 


100 


The Airship Boys 


‘‘You see it?” he exclaimed. “Now, ho for the 
Tunit Chas and the old Ciholar 

It was a few minutes before seven o’clock. 
Through those trackless interwoven valleys and 
over those untrodden heights a path must be 
found. 

When Ned and Salty Bill had advanced some- 
what ahead of the rest of the party Ned said to 
his companion: 

“Do you suppose we’ll have any trouble with 
the Nava j os ?” 

Salty Bill answered in his own way. 

“When I went up to Denver onct to a cattle 
convention no one didn’t tell me to look out fur 
pickpockets. So I mixed up with the crowds 
careless and free — and didn’t lose nothin’. But 
I knowed a cowpuncher ’at was advised, and he 
kept his eyes peeled and the first time he forgot 
hisself they cleaned him out slicker ’an a bean 
pot at Sunday breakfast.” 

Ned’s plans worked perfectly. Late on the 
afternoon of the second day, much to the aston- 
ishment of all, the boys recognized — as they 
reached the summit of the second range — the 
crystal lake and the blasted pine tree marking 
the site of Camp Eagle, where Bob and Elmer 
had waited in vain for the return of Ned and 
Alan on the first trip. 


A Trail hy Compass 


101 


The satisfaction of good water and a con- 
venient camp site was nothing compared with the 
boys’ happiness in finding the old stores cached 
here. These included two tins of gasoline, the 
old tent, and a number of cooking utensils. The 
gasoline was a welcome addition to their supply 
and was easily carried in place of the lost cylin- 
der of gas. The other articles were not needed. 

One thing was apparent — Senor Oje would 
not see them on the fourth day. 

On the next day they traversed the broken 
land of mesa and desert. Hour after hour the 
expedition was urged forward and at dark camp 
was made in a broken land of rock, sand and hills 
that stretched monotonously in all directions. In 
this region Ned and Alan had once wandered 
three days. 

The treasure mesa was not yet in sight and this 
stop marked the close of the fifth day’s travel. 
But Ned was confident. Circling the high 
ground before them, early the next morning, the 
travelers found themselves in a barren valley 
curving toward the south and bordered east and 
west by cliff-like hills. This freak of nature in 
the mountain wilderness was three miles wide. 
The onward march was laid straight down the 
center of it. 

Ned, riding ahead with the binoculars almost 


102 


The Airship Boys 


constantly to his eyes, examined every cut, can- 
yon and defile on each side. At about nine o’clock, 
while he was thus engaged — and they had now 
been on the desert trail two hours and a half — 
Salty Bill suddenly spurred his pony forward. 
Ned saw the guide riding toward an oblong 
black object lying on the white sand. He guessed 
what it was before he reached it. Nevertheless, 
he was not a little surprised to discover one of 
the cast iron boxes which had been used on the 
Cibola to hold the liquid hydrogen bulbs and 
which had subsequently been thrown from the 
car as ballast. 

When the rest of the party came up Ned and 
the guide were curiously examining the discard- 
ed box. Bob Russell, springing from his pony, 
ran forward for his inevitable snapshot. 

“I guess that ought to help some!” exclaimed 
Bob. “You were certainly flying around 
here.” 

“We dropped them all over the mountains,” 
said Alan. 

“But you only dropped this one here,” an- 
swered Bob in some excitement. “Can’t you re- 
member when you let this one go?” 

Ned shook his head. “They were all alike,” 
he answered, “and besides — ” Suddenly he shut 
the binoculars with a bang. “Look here, Alan,” 


A Trail hy Compass 103 

he exclaimed, “every one of those boxes had a 
number — ” 

Bob turned the iron shell over with his foot. 
There, sure enough, was a number, a small sten- 
ciled “6” in white paint. All looked at Ned in- 
quiringly. 

“When we loaded those casks on the car,” he 
said, thinking as he spoke, “we took them in or- 
der because they were in the big case in order. 
I’m sure we distributed 1, 2, 3 and 4 down one 
side of the car and 5, 6, 7 and 8 along the other.” 
He thought a moment. “When we reconverted 
the liquid hydrogen back into gas we cut loose 
the boxes as we needed ballast. I’m certain we 
began with No. 1. And then, to balance the car, 
we took No. 4. Anyway, I seem to remember 
going back then to the one next to the first one. 
If we did, that was No. 2. And 3 followed. 
What end did we begin on on the other side?” 
he exclaimed, suddenly turning to Alan. 

But Alan shook his head. 

Bob interposed. 

“I don’t see that it makes much difference,” he 
exclaimed. “In any event 6 and 7 must have been 
the last ones dropped. Now,” he shouted heart- 
ily, “when did the Cibola drop these?” 

“We didn’t go by numbers,” almost sighed 
Ned, “but the last box we threw overboard — ” 


104 The Airship Boys 

Then he stopped and took a little note book from 
his pocket. 

“You don’t need to look/’ interrupted Alan 
fervently. “It was the evening we landed on the 
mesa, August 15.” 

“And in what direction were you sailing?” per- 
sisted the young reporter, like a detective. 

“Here it is,” exclaimed Ned, “ ‘Aug. 15. At 
6:30 P. M. traveling almost due east. Dropped 
last tank — ’ ” 

“Now,” shouted Bob, turning toward the east 
and pointing in that direction, “how long before 
you came down?” 

“My record doesn’t show,” replied Ned. “But 
not more than twenty minutes.” 

Bob threw himself on his pony and set off on 
a gallop across the sand toward the eastern cliffs. 

“Follow me,” he shouted over his shoulder, “if 
you want your mesa.” 

Ten minutes later the volunteer guide turned 
in much excitement. An abrupt sandstone pile 
blocked their way a half a mile ahead. 

“Is that it?” shouted the reporter. 

Ned and Alan shook their heads. 

Bob reined in his pony disconsolately. 

“Now,” shouted Ned in turn, “follow me.” He 
set off at a smart canter toward a defile to the 
south of the rise. 


A Trail hy Compass 


105 


Salty Bill advanced slowly, far in the rear. 
But the four boys fell into a race for the open- 
ing. Elmer’s “calico” won easily. As the other 
boys, their animals panting, reached his side, the 
colored boy was standing with fixed eyes looking 
far across a second and parallel valley. 

Cutting into the edge of the picture and about 
a mile ahead was a towering pile of barren, gold- 
en brown rock. The end of it in view, like the 
prow of a ship, rose abruptly from the waveless 
sea of sand and pointed south. 

“Dar’s somepin’,” exclaimed Elmer. 

There was no need for verbal confirmation. 
The cheers of Ned and Alan and the swing of 
their hats to Salty Bill in the rear as they dashed 
forward through the little pass, told plainly 
enough that the Treasure Mesa had been found 
again. 


CHAPTER X 

SCALING THE MESA 

At fifteen minutes after eleven o’clock on the 
morning of October 8, Ned Napier and his 
friends reached the end of their difficult and 
dangerous journey. As they approached the 
foot of the sterile, sun-baked cliffs of the un- 
charted mesa, the young leader pointed out the 
mouth of the tunnel, one hundred feet above the 
plain, through which he and Alan had escaped 
with their treasure from the heights above. 

The original plan had been to carry the treas- 
ure, the Indian remains and the members of the 
expedition back to the camp near the McElmo 
Canyon on the reinflated Cibola, But on the 
march through the mountains this had been re- 
considered. With a practically known trail be- 
hind, a trusted guide in the person of Salty Bill 
Donnelly, and twelve stout little burros at their 
disposal, Ned and Alan had come to a new con- 
clusion. 

The burros could not be abandoned in the 
mountain desert. Since they must be returned to 
the starting point in Colorado Ned had deter- 
mined — should the Cibola be found uniniured — 
106 


Scaling the Mesa 


107 


to remove the wrought gold and silver and pot- 
tery by means of the burros. To assist in trans- 
ferring the valuable cargo over the canyon of the 
San Juan River, Bob Russell and Elmer Grissom 
were to accompany Salty Bill. 

Provisions had been provided for four persons 
for ten days. The five adventurers had now been 
on the trail six days and a half. But, by econ- 
omy, only half the stores had been used. That 
the remaining half might get the return expedi- 
tion back in comfort and give Ned and Alan food 
for at least two days on the mesa, meant a still 
more reduced ration. And it also meant that no 
time was to be lost. 

“Salty Bill,” ordered Ned at once, “you had 
better make an investigation of the timber to the 
east in search of the upper part of the creek we 
crossed last night. Elmer will return and secure 
the cast iron box we passed three miles back. It’s 
the only thing I can think of to use in carrying 
water.” 

The packs were hastily unloaded, a quick 
luncheon was eaten and Salty Bill and Elmer 
rode off in opposite directions as ordered. 

“Now,” said Ned, “we three will see how long 
it’s going to take us to climb three hundred feet 
of straight wall without a ladder.” 

First a quick inventory was made of all packs. 


108 


The Airship Boys 


It was hot, perspiring work, but eagerness to be 
on the towering perpendicular cliff before night 
was sufficient incentive. One of the packs con- 
tained three stout Italian hemp inch ropes, two 
of them over three hundred feet long and one 
about fifty feet in length. These were laid out 
in loose coils. Then Ned produced two four- 
inch double pulley blocks. The long ropes were 
for the control of the captive balloon and the pul- 
leys were for use, both on the ground below and 
in the mesa above, in controlling the balloon. 

About fifty feet from the face of the mesa, 
under Ned’s direction, several heavy fragments of 
sandstone were piled for an anchorage, and to 
these, with a section of the fifty-foot rope, one 
of the pulleys was attached. Through this pulley 
one of the three-hundred- foot ropes was then 
threaded. 

Ned was to make the ascent to the top of the 
mesa carrying the extra rope and pulley and, 
after he had made a landing, he was to fasten the 
second pulley in the same way to a similar anchor- 
age above. 

‘Tn that way,” he explained, “by retaining the 
second rope above, whatever the direction of the 
wind, I can draw the balloon over the mesa and 
control it while I unload its freight.” 

But) for the first ascent, it would be necessary 


Scaling the Mesa 


109 


to wait for a favorable wind. There was no 
doubt about their ability to send the balloon up, 
but there was no way to make it float over the 
cliff from below. And there was no way for the 
aeronaut to control it. Therefore, when the small 
balloon bag had been unpacked and laid out, its 
light net put in place and the two ropes made fast 
to the wooden ring in which the net drops ended, 
the boys made themselves busy arranging the rest 
of the equipment in suitable parcels to be lifted 
to the top of the mesa. It was now planned to 
attempt all of this by the balloon rather than by 
way of the secret tunnel. 

About two o’clock Elmer returned with the 
iron box. But Salty Bill was an hour later. 
However, he had not only found water — almost 
two and a half miles east of the mesa — but he had 
trailed and shot a deer, the saddle and hindquar- 
ters of which he had behind him on the pony. He 
also carried a pack of faggots and a bundle of 
green pine sticks. 

‘T reckon that venison ain’t goin’ to do us much 
good dis hot weather,” began Elmer. 

“Finest kind o’ weather fur jerked meat,” an- 
swered Salty Bill, “and bein’ kind o’ short o’ 
chuck I didn’t overlook no chances.” 

The boys were anxious to start a water caravan, 
but the old cook reminded them of his precept: 


110 


The Airship Boys 


“Take yer time, boys, don’t hurry, and remem- 
ber yer stummicks. I’m goin’ to start this meat 
a curin’ afore anything else takes place.” 

He hastily skinned the carcass and then put all 
the boys at work cutting the fresh meat into nar- 
row strips about six inches long and an inch 
thick. As each piece was cut it was thoroughly 
salted and laid on the rocks in the sun. At the 
same time Salty Bill utilized his green pine 
branches in the construction of a rack about three 
feet high, the same in width and four or five feet 
long. Across this he laid a grill of sticks a few 
inches apart and then, beneath, started a slow, 
smouldering fire. On the grill the salted venison 
was laid, as if for broiling, just above the pun- 
gent smoke. 

“And now,” explained the old plainsman, “ef 
kyotes or some other varmints don’t git it, about 
tomorrow mornin’ we’re agoin’ to have enough 
good meat to help us out quite a bit.” 

Meanwhile, Ned had figured out the matter of 
the care of the burros and the procuring of water 
for the expedition. While the boys waited for a 
favorable breeze in which to send up the balloon. 
Salty Bill was to take all the stock to the timber 
and water, carrying with him the big oblong iron 
water-tight box and all the canteens. After 
watering the animals he was to rope them in the 


Scaling the Mesa 


111 


grass and then return with the full canteens and 
the box, which, with a cloth over its top to pre- 
vent loss by splashing, was to be cinehed on a 
burro. 

Lighting his pipe afresh the guide lined up the 
animals and set out. Then came a wait. By five 
o’clock the reflected heat of the rocky wall became 
almost unbearable. The air seemed stagnant. 
Suddenly Ned was conscious that the lack of 
motion presaged a storm. 

“I’m sure,” he exclaimed, “that we’re going to 
have wind tonight — perhaps too much of it. And 
it may come soon. Why not get ready?” 

The young adventurers fell at once to the new 
task. One gas cylinder was rolled to the mouth 
of the flat bag and Ned got out a ten-foot length 
of ineh rubber hose. A coupling and thread 
on one end of this fitted the coupling on the cylin- 
der valve and the other end was introduced into 
the small tube-like extension of the balloon bot- 
tom. The loose folds of the bag opening were 
then bound tightly around the end of the hose 
with stout cord, and with a key the cylinder valve 
was slightly and slowly opened. Small as the 
opening was the pent-up gas rushed into the hose^ 
which, with a hiss of steam, wabbled and curved 
like a wounded snake. 

Then Ned attached the seat. The basket, being 


112 


The Airship Boys 


too cumbersome for transportation, had been de- 
tached, and in its place a sort of “bo’s’n’s” chair 
was made fast about eight feet below the net drop 
ring. To this the young leader tied the three hun- 
dred feet of coiled up rope and the pulley he was 
to use on the mesa, and then he drew the lower 
control rope taut through the ground pulley and 
gave it in charge of Bob and Alan. 

As the shapely and glistening yellow bag be- 
gan to round out Bob exclaimed; 

“Looks as if you ought to have a pair of tights 
and a trapeze, Ned.” 

But Ned was thinking of other things. 

“If I get up all right,” he said, “and there 
happens to be a storm, weVe got to keep right at 
it. And if we don’t get through by dark, why, 
we’ll do the best we can in the dark. When you 
pay out the rope stop as soon as I wave my hat. 
That means I’m just above the top. Hold me 
steady then and one of you push the guide rope as 
near to the face of the cliff as you can. I’ll be 
waiting for a gust of wind to carry me over the 
top of the mesa.” 

“How shall we know when you’re off?” asked 
Bob. 

Ned laughed. “If you don’t keep a tight line 
on that pulley block you’ll knpw by the rope pull- 
ing out of your hands,” he explained. “I’ll have 


Scaling the Mesa 


113 


to jump. And when I do that the bag will spring 
up like a bird. You’ve got to hang on till you 
hear a shot. Then haul away, make fast down 
here, put on your first load — never more than two 
hundred pounds — and pay out. Calculate three 
hundred feet and stop. Then I’ll haul in through 
my pulley, make fast in turn, unload, and give 
you the signal again.” 

The cylinder was being rapidly exhausted. 

“And how about us?” inquired Bob anxiously. 
“You can’t beat me out of seeing that Temple. 
And, say, do you fellows think you got every- 
thing up there? I’d give a good deal to find some 
buried treasure myself.” 

“You can look,” laughed Alan. “But you 
won’t be so keen when you get into about three 
feet of dust on that khiva floor. You never saw 
anything like it.” 

“Dust!” exclaimed Bob. “I’m going to sift 
every ounce of it.” 

Both boys laughed. The recollection of their 
own trying experience was still vivid. 

“Well,” said Ned, “you can’t let each other 
up the cliff, but I’ll fix it for you. When the 
last of the outfit has been sent up you can send 
up Elmer — ” 

“Me?” exclaimed the colored hoy fearfully. 
“On dat trapeze?” 


114 


The Airship Boys 


“Well, then, let Bob come,” suggested Ned. 
“He’s always looking for something new — ” 

“You bet I am!” exclaimed the reporter. “Let 
me go. It’ll give me a chance at a fine snap-shot 
of the mesa top.” 

“If it isn’t after dark and in a thunderstorm,” 
interrupted Ned. 

“And it will be,” replied Bob. “It always is. 
Everything is always after dark.” 

“Not more than one of you four can come, 
though,” went on Ned. “Then the others must 
make fast down here. Whoever comes must 
bring the rope ladder. Then I’ll take the ladder 
to the tunnel mouth and let it down. But don’t 
come up until I lower the hoisting rope we left 
in the tunnel. When that comes down, if it is 
dark, to avoid risks I want each one as he climbs 
up the ladder to tie this rope under his arms. And 
as he ascends the two of us in the tunnel will keep 
it tight. If there’s a slip in the dark the fellow 
climbing can’t fall far.” 

Meanwhile, as the breeze still held off, Ned sug- 
gested a cold supper. Instead, the enterprising 
Elmer unpacked the mess kit, and fried some of 
the yet unsmoked venison which, with a pot of 
tea and the last of Salty Bill’s breakfast biscuits, 
made a hot and satisfying meal. In the midst 
of it Salty Bill returned with the water. At 


Scaling the Mesa 


115 


sight of the balloon and the hissing cylinder, 
which was now nearly exhausted, the veteran’s 
eyes bulged. 

“And air you agoin’ up in that little contrap- 
tion?” he began. 

“I am,” replied Ned, springing forward. 
“And right now. Get ready, boys.” 

The smoke of the smouldering fire had sud- 
denly puffed into his face. A faint breeze had 
wafted out of the west. The inflated bag had 
for some time been tugging at the control rope 
and the cylinder was empty. 

“She’ll be here by the time I’m up there,” ex- 
claimed Ned, jumping on the light board and 
grasping the supporting ropes. “Good-bye for 
a minute, and — ” 

Another gust swayed the orange-like bag. 

“Pay out!” 

Holding their breath Bob and Alan loosened 
the control rope and the balloon rose slowly. 
Again a light puff struck the bag and it swayed 
toward the ragged cliff. 

“Faster,” called Ned, dropping easily into the 
seat and leaning downward. “Don’t let her hit 
the rocks. Pay out.” 

In the excitement both Elmer and Salty Bill 
sprang to the rope as if fearful that the bag 
might escape. 


I 


116 The Airship Boys 

“Pay out — faster,” called Ned again. “Don’t 
hold back.” 

And then, Alan taking charge, the rope began 
to run through the pulley and the balloon shot 
quickly skyward. In a few seconds a hat was 
waved high up on the little swinging seat, and 
Alan took a quick hitch of the loose rope around 
the taut end. The bag could be seen swaying 
gently back and forth from the effect of its stop- 
ping, but it was far from the edge of the cliff. 
Putting Bob and Elmer in charge of the hitch 
and Salty Bill at the loose end of the line Alan 
now began, hand over hand, to draw the taut 
rope toward the cliff. The bag above responded. 

When Alan was finally backed up against the 
precipice the swinging seat above was nearly out 
of sight. At times the bag too almost disap- 
peared as the breeze caught it. Thus, nearly ten 
minutes passed. The sky had darkened and a 
light rain had begun to fall. Still there was no 
signal from above. Those at the pulley anchor- 
age watched anxiously. Suddenly the bag was 
seen to dart swiftly toward the mesa. 

“There she goes,” yelled Bob excitedly. 

But even as he spoke Alan flew several feet in 
the air, the line shot from his hand, the control 
rope tightened on the pulley with a snap and the 
bag above sprang out into view. 


Scaling the Mesa 


117 


“He’s dropped off,” shouted Elmer as the 
empty seat could be seen swinging lazily below 
the car. 

“You bet he did,” exclaimed Alan. “And I 
felt his one hundred and fifty pounds all right.” 


CHAPTER XI 

AN AERONAUT IN SPITE OF HIMSELF 

Before Ned’s first signal to “haul down” was 
heard the gathering storm had burst. The tent 
had been hastily erected as a shelter for the mess 
and provision kits, the extra clothing, sleeping 
rolls and damageable freight. But the gas cylin- 
ders, oil tins, tool and material boxes and water- 
proof packs were sent skyward one after another. 

The willing workers were drenched, but they 
found joy in this part of their labors, and the 
Cibola, Jr,, rose and fell as regularly as a freight 
elevator. 

But, in spite of all their activity, the work was 
slow. Not less than ten minutes were required 
for attaching, raising and landing each load and 
even before the gas cylinders were on the mesa 
top it was eight o’clock, wholly dark, and the 
rain was falling steadily. 

When the balloon came down again after the 
tenth cylinder had been carried up the boys 
found, attached to the seat, a crumpled note, tied 
in Ned’s handkerchief. It read: 

“Send up everything tonight. May lose gas. 
Alan last with ladder. Others come by tunnel.” 

118 


An Aeronaut in Spite of Himself 119 

The boys knew that Bob, Elmer and Salty Bill 
were enough to do the work below, and, as Alan 
explained, this plan would permit him to enter 
the tunnel and drop the ladder while the work of 
transfer was being finished. 

Therefore Alan got himself a candle and, after 
piling the new rope ladder on the seat beside him, 
disappeared upward in the dark. When AJan 
felt the jerk of the guide rope he knew that he 
was at the end of the three-hundred-foot length. 
He felt the instant lateral pull and the creak of 
Ned’s pulley, and a few moments later he was 
safe by his chum’s side. 

Alan was dispatched at once to descend into 
the tunnel and make fast the ladder. Advancing 
cautiously, for he remembered that there was no 
mark on the mesa surface to indicate the yawn- 
ing split in the rock, Alan reached the opening 
and then slowly made his way along its edge to 
the east where the steps began. 

Without a light Alan finally, with great labor, 
reached the bottom — one hundred and eighty 
steps and two hundred feet below. As he felt 
his way blindly to the opening into the tunnel the 
cold draft struck him. In the tunnel he would 
be protected from the storm, but even there the 
use of the candle was impossible. So, dragging 
the ladder bundle behind him and crouching, he 


120 


The Airship Boys 


again started forward. But he had gone only a 
few yards when a chill swept over him — for a 
soft, hving thing had slid out from beneath his 
foot! As he sprang back he heard the shrill 
alarm of a rattlesnake. 

Alan was not naturally timorous; but neither 
was he foolhardy. To go forward in the dark 
over this aroused and deadly serpent was worse 
than foolish. He did the wise thing — abandoned 
the ladder bundle at once and made his way back 
to the top of the mesa. Ned instantly approved 
his action, and agreed that this plan had better be 
given up. 

It was now a few minutes after ten o’clock. 
Everything had arrived on the mesa but the tent 
and sleeping rolls, and the balloon was just about 
to be released for the next of the few remaining 
trips. 

Ned hastily wrote and tied to the seat another 
note: 

“No ladder tonight. Those who want dry beds 
and hot supper come up by balloon.” 

Within another half hour three more trips had 
been made. On the last one Ned discovered a 
note in Bob’s handwriting: “Thirty on dead 
freight.” 

“What’s that mean?” exclaimed Alan. “Thirty 
what?” 


An Aeronaut in Spite of Himself 121 

“Newspaper shop slang,” laughed Ned. “That 
means ‘alF or ‘the end’.” 

The next load came slowly. When the balloon 
was pulled in both boys burst out laughing. 
Salty Bill, his eyes shut tight and his arms 
gripped around both seat ropes, was the human 
freight. 

“What does that remind you of. Salty Bill?” 
roared Alan as the boys dragged him from his 
seat. 

Salty Bill gasped. “It reminds me o’ freightin’ 
dynamite,” he answered slowly. 

Elmer was next ; but the colored boy stood the 
trip better. 

Bob’s ascent was really the only dangerous one. 
He could let himself up a hundred and fifty feet 
by paying out the control rope from his seat in 
the balloon. But, when he reached that height, he 
would have to release the rope. The bag would 
then bound suddenly upward. Its flight would 
have to be checked by the rope held by those on 
the mesa. To reduce the shock that would fol- 
low the release below, those above slipped the 
second control rope from the pulley, and all ad- 
vanced to the edge of the mesa with a tight grip 
on the line. 

“He’ll hold the end of his rope a moment be- 
fore he lets go,” suggested Ned. “When we feel 


122 


The Airship Boys 


the bag pause, we’ll all run back to keep the line 
taut. If we run as fast as the balloon ascends 
we’ll pull it over the edge without a strain. If we 
don’t, and it gets a loose rope, it’ll shoot up like 
a rocket. And Bob will get a jolt when he takes 
up our slack.” 

But there was several moments’ delay before 
those waiting above felt the balloon beginning to 
rise once more. When it did, it came slowly and 
evenly and without a pause. The bag was as- 
cending so smoothly that Ned became alarmed. 

‘T hope we haven’t lost our gas,” he exclaimed 
apprehensively. “She’s coming up like a water- 
logged ship.” 

There were now signs of an abatement in the 
storm and a few stars were shining, but in the 
excitement not even Salty Bill observed these 
signs. The bag was coming so regularly and 
slowly that Ned began to pull on the hanging 
rope to accelerate the rise. 

“The balloon must be leaking,” he exclaimed 
suddenly. “Haul away and pull it up.” 

The just buoyant car responded, reached the 
height of the mesa top and was drawn in without 
a jar or strain. As the swinging seat drifted 
easily to a safe landing and the control rope was 
made fast, Ned and Alan sprang forward and 
grasped the gently swaying passenger. 


An Aeronaut in Spite of Himself 128 

The resourceful Bob, his form crouched low in 
the seat, held in his clasped arms a heap of jagged 
stones. Beneath the seat, made fast by the end 
of the control rope, swung a rock, certainly not 
less than one hundred pounds in weight. The re- 
porter had loaded himself up with ballast, and 
the big rock, the fragments in Bob’s lap and his 
own one hundred and eighty pounds had been so 
well calculated that the balloon had just been able 
to rise slowly. 

“Well, what do you think of that?” exclaimed 
Ned. 

‘T think,” answered Bob, rolling the rocks out 
of his lap as he leaped to the ground, “that I’ll 
write a story about it some day, entitled ‘An 
Aeronaut in Spite of Himself.’ ” 

The little balloon was made fast and then, each 
boy carrying his sleeping roll, there was almost 
a foot race to the ruins at the far end of the mesa. 
The rain had now ceased and the stars were be- 
ginning to peep through the clouds. Ned and 
Alan led the way. Making for the eastern open- 
ing in the semicircle of trees, the boys, with Salty 
Bill not far behind, had just reached the en- 
trance to the enclosure when the moon broke 
through the scurrying clouds. 

There was a pause. Before them lay the white 
walls of the ancient palace. And in the center, 


124 


The Airship Boys 


almost ghostlike, rose the Turquoise Temple. 

“Dark again,” sighed Bob Russell at once, as 
the moon disappeared, “but there she is.” 

“And there’s the Cibola/' added Ned, point- 
ing to the skeleton-like car of the big balloon on 
the stone pathway opening before them. 

In another moment the race was on again. It 
was apparent that nothing had molested the 
precious framework. But what of the contents 
of the temple chamber? The waiting treasure? 
The balloon itself? The engine and gasoline? 
Ned, who was the first to reach the turquoise- 
margined doorway, nervously struck a match, lit 
his candle and sprang within. The rest, equally 
curious, crowded close behind. The big cham- 
ber, cave-like with its two small windows open- 
ing to the north and south, was black with shad- 
ows. But Ned’s companions hurried forward 
as he advanced to the corner where the Cibola's 
bag had been stored. His shout of satisfaction 
at finding the great envelope apparently as he had 
left it nearly two months before was the signal 
for a jubilee. 

“Show me some of those Indian trinkets!” 
shouted Bob as he executed a wild dance on the 
smooth stone floor. “And some of those tur- 
quoise slabs and the mummies! That’s what I 
want to see — buried treasure!” 


An Aeronaut in Spite of Himself 125 

“It’s buried all right,” laughingly answered 
Alan, who had now lit his own candle. While 
Ned turned to examine the engine Alan led the 
way to the corner of the apartment where nearly 
five hundred pounds of Aztec gold and silver had 
been piled. A heap of sand greeted the eyes of 
those behind him. 

“That?” exclaimed Bob in a disappointed tone. 

Alan ran his hand into the top of the sand, 
caught the corner of a heavy object and with the 
exclamation “Look out for your toes” sent it roll- 
ing with a thud to the hard stone floor. 

“Item,” he added laughing: “The body of the 
Sacred Eagle of the Aztecs — solid silver. Weight 
two hundred and eighteen pounds.” 

As the crude shimmering form rolled onto the 
floor, three open-mouthed spectators fell back as 
if it had been a wild animal. 

“Item,” continued Alan, thrusting his hand 
into the sand again and extracting a long, pointed 
object: “One wing of the Sacred Aztec Eagle, 
gold. Weight, twenty-eight pounds.” 

Bob Russell stepped forward and soberly and 
ceremoniously placed his hand first on the silver 
eagle and then on the golden wing. 

“Well,” he said at last, “I’ve been reading 
about buried treasure all my life. Now I’ve seen 
it. I’ve touched it. I’m satisfied.” 


126 


The Airship Boys 


“And if the rest of you are,” exclaimed Ned 
from the rear, “everybody return to the landing 
place for the provision and mess kits. I’ll scare 
up a fire while you are gone.” 

When his companions returned Ned’s fire was 
roaring. As Alan and Bob came up the paved 
path they suddenly paused, as if fascinated by 
the scene. 

“It’s like a picture,” whispered Bob. 

Before them rose the turquoise-encrusted tem- 
ple, its bleached and whitened sides showing like 
phosphorescence in the mingled glow of the new 
moonlight and the golden fire. Right and left 
stretched the ghostly white remnants of broken 
walls. Behind, the fringe of pines cut a band of 
black through the star-studded, misty sky. In 
the center, leaning against the side of the open- 
ing in the temple, his hat in his hand, his eyes 
thoughtfully on the flames and the black wet 
tangle of his hair low on his tired, bronzed face, 
stood Ned. 

Alan slowly shook his head as if answering one 
of his own questions and then, as they started 
forward, exclaimed, half aloud: 

“And there’s the boy who made all this possi- 
ble.” 

“Yes,” answered Bob, “with Alan Hope to 
back him.” 


An Aeronaut in Spite of Himself 127 

The sleeping rolls were equal to their adver- 
tised claims. Inside they were dry as bones. 
From them was unpacked dry clothing, and then, 
hanging their wet garments on the nearby brok- 
en walls, the tired boys reclined comfortably 
against the wall of the temple. It was after 
eleven o’clock. 

“But what of that?” exclaimed Ned as the 
sizzle of Salty Bill’s bacon sounded in their ears 
and the delicious aroma of hot coffee rose on the 
cool night air. “We’ll sleep the sounder and get 
up when we like.” 

But long before the old guide had finished his 
last pipe of the day and while the welcome fire 
yet rose and fell, four tired boys in their blankets 
were fast asleep in the ancient Aztec Temple of 
the Sun. 


CHAPTER XII 

THE SNEERING IDOL 

As Xed had anticipated, the Cibola, Jr. lost so 
much gas over night that its further use had to 
be abandoned. Since the “treasure train” was 
to start back not later than the morning of the 
next day, after a quick breakfast, Alan started 
with Salty Bill to place the hanging ladder. Ned, 
with Bob assisting him, began preparations for 
the reinflation of the big dirigible balloon and 
Elmer was given the task of re-drying the half- 
smoked venison and dividing the provisions into 
new packs. 

Ned’s first care, however, was to replace the 
engine in the car and test it. It had not suffered 
in the least. When it had been bolted in place, 
oiled, and run for a few moments, the shafts were 
replaced, and then the rudder, aeroplane guides 
and propeller were brought out and once more 
mounted. In the midst of their labors Ned and 
Bob were surprised to see Salty Bill and Alan 
struggling up the paved approach with the tank 
of water between them, and to discover that it 
was already noon. 


123 


The Sneering Idol 129 

“How about de rattler?” inquired Elmer at 
once. 

“Rattler!” answered Alan with assumed con- 
tempt. “You mean rattlers. There was a con- 
vention of them.” And he threw a handful of 
tail buttons on the ground. “We, — I mean Salty 
Bill — killed eight of ’em.” 

“Shoot ’em?” interrupted Bob. 

“Shoot ’em?” snorted the old plainsman. 
“Waste good cartridges on a sarpint?” 

“He knocked their heads off with a stick,” ex- 
plained Alan. 

When dinner had been disposed of, Alan being 
now free to assist Ned, Bob and Salty Bill were 
assigned to the work of carrying the hydrogen 
cylinders to the temple. The reporter’s face 
lengthened. 

“Say, Ned,” he began, “when do I get a peek 
into that treasure house?” 

“Peek all you like,” answered Ned smiling, as 
he at once led the way to the opening in the paved 
court in the rear of the temple. 

“May I go down?” inquired the reporter ap- 
pealingly. 

“Certainly,” answered Ned. “But you’d better 
get a candle.” 

A moment later the irrepressible young re- 
porter had secured a light and had disappeared 


130 


The Airship Boys 


within the cavernous underground khiva or relig- 
ious chamber from which Ned and Alan had so 
recently removed a small fortune in metal and 
jewels. 

Ned and Alan hastened to finish the readjust- 
ment of the car and its machinery. The work 
was fascinating and they soon completed it. 
Then came the mending of the big net. 

As Ned drew the giant seine-like lengths from 
the temple chamber a footstep sounded on the 
pavement in the rear. The two boys looked up. 
A curious figure came slowly around the corner 
of the ruin. At first it was hardly recognizable. 
His skin plastered with greenish dust, his clothes 
odorous with the grime of ages, his hair stiff with 
the mud of dust and perspiration. Bob Russell 
exclaimed : 

“Did you fellows go down into that hole under 
the square place in the middle?” 

Ned and Alan turned to each other in double 
surprise. 

“A hole under the — ^you mean under the plat- 
form in the middle of the big room?” 

Bob nodded his head. 

“We didn’t know there was an opening there!” 

“You didn’t!” exclaimed Bob, his eyes blazing. 

“Not there,” said Ned in increased surprise. 
“Did you—” 


The Sneering Idol 


131 


“Look here, now, boys, don’t you fool me. Do 
you mean to tell me you didn’t go down under 
that square thing?” 

“We didn’t know — ” 

The youthful reporter sprang into the air and 
let out a yell that startled even the distant Elmer 
and Salty Bill. 

“That’s all I want to know,” he shouted. “You 
can have the whole blamed thing, but I found it. 
I’ve found buried treasure! I never thought I 
should, but I have. Hurrah for me!” He began 
pounding the two boys on their backs. “You can 
have it,” he shouted anew, “and welcome to it. 
But score one for Bob Russell. I’ve found buried 
treasure at last. Hurrah!” 

Ned and Alan were perplexed and mystified 
but they were nevertheless pleased. 

Ned caught Bob by the shoulders and laugh- 
ingly held him for a moment. 

“What did you see?” insisted Ned. 

“What did I see?” shouted Bob. “Why, 
buried treasure^ of course.” 

“Yes, we know,” interrupted Alan. “But what 
kind of treasure? Is there another room?” 

“What kind?” exclaimed Bob, a trifie more 
composed. “Oh, things. I don’t know what, — 
just things.” 

“All buried in dust?” suggested Ned. 


132 


The Airship Boys 


“No,” answered Bob. “Not dust. But it was 
dark and hot. Say, talk about hot — ” 

“And you don’t know what you saw?” sharply 
interrupted Alan. 

The exuberant reporter suddenly grew calmer. 

“Say,” he continued, “I guess I must have got 
rattled. But my hat fell off and I dropped the 
candle and, — and — well, I saw things sort of 
white and, and — sort of like dishes — ” 

Ned started for the khiva and then stopped. 

“How did you get in?” he asked quickly. 

“I didn’t get in — I looked in. I saw that big, 
square stone in the middle of the little platform 
and I raised it up — I took out some little loose 
ones next to it — ” 

Ned turned to AJan. 

“Better rig up our searchlight, hadn’t we?” 

It was hardly suggested before the boys were 
at the job. 

While Ned adjusted the belt to the shaft Alan 
connected the long drag rope to the dynamo. 
Through this ran two copper wires. Several in- 
candescent bulbs were yet intact in the Cibola s 
supply chest and one of these was attached to the 
free end of the drag. 

“Now,” exclaimed Ned, “I’ll run the engine 
and you fellows have a good look. Bob, finish 
your discovery.” 


The Sneering Idol 


133 


Elmer and Salty Bill had just arrived with 
another cylinder. 

“Didn’t see no rattlers, did yo’?” cautiously 
asked Elmer, when the situation had been ex- 
plained. 

“By George,” exclaimed Bob as if a light had 
just burst on him. “That’s just what I did see.” 

The colored boy stopped short. 

“Hain’t no Aztec treasure int’rests me whar 
dem fellers is.” And he turned back. 

“Hold on,” laughed Bob. “They were dead-- 
dead three or four hundred years — just bones; 
snaky little piles of white bones.” 

Only partly reassured, Elmer followed slowly. 
Alan held the light and then turned to Bob. 

“It’s your find. Bob; go ahead.” 

The begrimed reporter hesitated a moment and 
then sprang into the chamber of mystery. 

The light bobbed back and forth a few times 
and then, before even Ned had time to see what 
was going on below, Bob’s extended arms thrust 
a round, fiat object up through the opening. 

“Item,” shouted an echoing voice from below: 
“One dish, not very heavy and I don’t know what 
it is — gold, I hope.” 

Bob was imitating Ned’s speech of the night 
before. All laughed, but nevertheless the boys 
above were quick to examine the new find. In no 


134 


The Airship Boys 


respect was it like anything they had previously 
discovered. When a thin coat of dust was re- 
moved it was seen that Bob’s first treasure was a 
wide, fiat bowl — jet black, undecorated and with 
an enamel or glaze almost hke glass. 

“Item,” it was Bob’s voice again: “One fancy 
idol, not worth much except as a scarecrow.” 

The new object was certainly curious. It was 
the squat figure of a man with arms folded and 
resting on its knees. The material resembled 
terra-cotta and the thing was hollow. The fingers, 
rudely made, clasped each forearm tightly while 
the eyelids, brought flatly together except for a 
curved slit, gave the figure a human aspect that 
was made uncanny by the mouth. The lips, 
pressed closely together, had the appearance of 
having been pushed askew in the making and 
were set aslant as if in a sneer. In each elbow 
and in the front of each bent knee were semi-cir- 
cular openings into the body. The idol, for such 
it undoubtedly was, measured about eighteen 
inches high. 

“It doesn’t look like an Indian,” exclaimed 
Alan, examining the figure as critically as he 
could in the half light. 

Just then there was another shout from be- 
low. 

“Real item,” exclaimed Bob: “One hitching- 


The Sneering Idol 


135 


weight or coiled snake. Feels like lead; but I 
hope it is silver.” 

As the boys drew this out they saw that Bob’s 
newest treasure was a heavy and rude imitation 
in silver of a coiled rattlesnake. 

“Thirty pounds and worth about $200,” 
laughed Alan. 

“Another one,” called Bob as he passed up a 
second silver snake. “And that’s all, except rub- 
bish and snake bones.” 

When he had clambered into the khiva again 
and the black bowl, the sneering idol and the two 
coiled snakes of silver had been carried into the 
open air, Ned was able to join the group. Bob 
was hot and dusty, and jubilant. 

“They may not be worth much,” he explained, 
“but I want you all to remember — I’m something 
of a treasure finder myself.” 

“I don’t know about their not being worth 
much,” remarked Ned after carefully examining 
the find. “The snakes are Indian, all right, but 
I’m inclined to think the howl is of much older 
origin. Certainly the hollow image is not the 
work of the Indians who made this temple.” 

“Not Indian?” exclaimed Bob. “You don’t 
mean it was made by white men?” And he gave 
the figure more serious attention. 

“No,” explained Ned. “But you know these 


The Airship Boye 


136 

Indians, or Aztecs, had predecessors. Down in 
Mexico, buried in almost impenetrable forests, 
are cities and temples and carved statues. We 
only know that whoever made them had a civiliza- 
tion superior to the Indians of later times.” 

“And you think this bowl and idol came from 
Mexico?” interrupted Alan. 

“Why not?” answered Ned, who had been 
thinking. “The rattlesnake was sacred to the Az- 
tecs. The second chamber that Bob has just 
found was probably where those venerated rep- 
tiles were kept. Any other object of adoration 
might also be jealously guarded in the same place. 
This idol and this bowl may have come in some 
mysterious way from the even yet unexplored 
treasure houses of Mitla, the Vale of the Dead, 
Copan or Cholula. If they did, you can be sure 
they were valued beyond gems or gold.” 

Bob’s eyes opened. “Then this idol may be 
more than three hundred and fifty years old?” he 
asked. 

“It may be more than three thousand five hun- 
dred years old,” answered Ned. 

The young reporter sat down on a fallen stone 
of the temple wall and gasped. 

“Well, what do you think of that!” he ex- 
claimed at last. 

“I think,” answered Ned, “that Major Honey- 


The Sneering Idol 187 

well will vote your idol the most valuable thing 
we have yet found.” 

Bob then described the appearance of the cham- 
ber. The black bowl he had found on the floor 
in the center of the apartment, and the figure of 
the sneering idol on a square rock near the eastern 
wall. The two snake images had guarded it on 
either side. 

“And the rock?” exclaimed Ned. 

“Just rock,” answered Bob. “So I left it there.” 

“Nothing else?” queried Ned. 

“Except snake bones,” laughed Bob. “Plenty 
of those.” 

“I don’t suppose you mind my having a look?” 
Ned added, laughing in turn. 

“No,” exclaimed Bob enthusiastically. “If 
my idol is three thousand years old you may have 
all the bones in the Chamber of the Sacred Rat- 
tlesnakes, and welcome,” he added, taking up the 
hollow image with careful hands. 

Alan started the engine and the electric light 
again and Ned took a turn at exploring. The 
young leader disappeared into the khiva with 
Elmer and Salty Bill close behind to give him as- 
sistance in getting out of the lower chamber again 
after he had got in. For perhaps a quarter of an 
hour nothing was heard from him. Then he sud- 
denly reappeared. Apparently his quest had been 


138 


The Airship Boys 


unrewarded, for he carried nothing with him. 
When Ned emerged from the upper chamber into 
the daylight, Bob was still sitting near his treas- 
ures. He was now polishing the black bowl, the 
sides of which had begun to glisten like jet. 

“I suspect that that was a water bowl for the 
snakes,” remarked Ned. 

Bob looked up. “Draw a blank?” he inquired. 

“You didn’t have time to examine the walls, did 
you?” asked Ned, as he wiped the perspiration 
from his hot face. 

“I looked them over pretty carefully,” an- 
swered Bob. “I thought there might be a pas- 
sageway.” 

“Did you sound them?” asked Ned. 

“You did, and you found something!” ex- 
claimed Bob, jumping up. 

“Yes,” said Ned, motioning to Alan to join 
them. “I found a place in the wall that gave a 
hollow sound. Then I saw that the stone closing 
it could be removed. It came out easily. Behind 
it was a niche about nine inches deep. In it was 
this—” 

With as much composure as he could command 
Ned drew from the bosom of his shirt a glisten- 
ing, sky-blue dish — a carved and polished piece of 
turquoise about four inches in diameter and two 
and a half inches in its greatest thickness. 


The Sneering Idol 


139 


“And this was the top or lid,” added Ned as 
he also exhibited a disc of shimmering and irides- 
cent mother-of-pearl, slightly curved, which fitted 
the turquoise cup perfectly. 

Exclamations of wonder and admiration arose 
on all sides. 

“Scooped!” dejectedly groaned Bob. “And on 
my own story!” 

“This,” explained Ned calmly, “I suppose rep- 
resents the holy of Indian holies. No Indian but 
a Snake Priest could have reached it even had he 
known of the secret niche.” 

“And I suppose,” interrupted Alan, “that this 
is easily the finest example of turquoise the world 
has ever known.” 

“Wa’nt dey nothin’ in de cup?” interrupted the 
practical Elmer. 

For answer Ned thrust a hand in his trousers 
pocket and extracted something which he con- 
cealed within his fingers. 

Then, throwing his handkerchief over the 
closed hand as a magician might do, he stepped 
back a pace, fluttered the folds of the linen in a 
swift movement and revealed the object that has 
ever since been connected with his name — the Na- 
pier emerald. 

Nestling in the white handkerchief lay a rich 
grass-green jewel, as large as a pigeon’s egg. 


140 


The Airship Boys 


crudely polished and aglow with the pent-up in- 
candescence of its lustrous fire. For a moment 
no one spoke. Even to the uninitiated among the 
spectators the richness and value of the gem was 
apparent. Then, before the excitement of close 
examination began, Bob sprang forward and 
grasped Ned’s hand: “Bully for you, old man! 
That just shows the difference between thinking 
you know and knowing how to think!” 


CHAPTER XIII 

THE RETURN CARAYAN SETS OUT 

When the excitement following this momen- 
tous discovery had somewhat abated Salty Bill 
recalled to the boys that there were other things 
requiring immediate attention. 

“The fuss over this emerald, or whatever ye 
like to call a black speckled piece o’ green glass, 
reminds me,” suggested Salty Bill, “of a fine bag 
o’ gold dust a feller onct got together down on 
the Rio Grande. It was wuth a good deal, an’ he 
tried to bring it out over the Estacado plains. The 
man had his choice between less gold and more 
water an’ he cut out the water. He died huggin’ 
the bag o’ dust. I reckon, in the end, he would ’a’ 
guv it all fur a drink. My pony and them bur- 
ros ain’t had no water sence yisterday. I got to 
go look after ’em.” 

The boys felt the rebuke. It was immediately 
arranged that Salty Bill should descend from the 
mesa, carry the iron water-box to the stream 
again, care for the stock and return as soon as he 
could. Then early the following morning he was 
to make one more trip and bring the burros back 
to the mesa preparatory to leaving that night. 

141 


142 


The Airship Boys 


Since all would have to assist in making the bal- 
loon ready the departure of the caravan might be 
at a late hour, but all were to get away, if possible, 
the next evening, the Cibola making its first dash 
for McElmo Canyon just before the caravan 
crew set out. 

But, in spite of every effort, by four o’clock the 
next afternoon it was seen that these plans would 
have to be changed. The filling of the Cibola bag 
had hot yet begun. The work was delayed by a 
decision to add at least fifty pounds of the valua- 
ble turquoise to the other baggage. For several 
hours that morning, while Ned and Alan were 
desperately applying themselves to the Cibolafs 
reconstruction, the young reporter and Elmer 
worked in the khiva. Bit by bit the rich blue 
pieces were pried loose and removed in small bags. 
But at noon Ned called a halt on this. 

The transfer of the stores and metal was then 
renewed. When Salty Bill arrived with the last 
box of water and the ponies and burros, at about 
one o’clock, he found the boys as busy as a regi- 
ment on parade. But they were attempting the 
impossible. 

Ned finally announced that although every- 
thing might be finished that evening except the 
inflation of the balloon, on no account would he 
undertake that after dark. Therefore, when the 


The Return Caravan Sets Out 


143 


last of the packs had been lowered to the plain, 
all hands turned in to fill the sand bags that were 
to be used in holding the bag while it was being 
inflated. This important work was set for dawn 
the next morning, and all thought of getting 
away that day was abandoned. 

It was dark before the last of the many tasks 
was accomplished. 

The spoils were packed carefully. The small 
balloon had been cut up and the pieces used as 
packing, and by nesting the flat Indian bowls 
and dishes in each other, a considerable quantity 
of the khiva earthenware remains was suitably 
arranged for transportation. Within the cabin 
of the Cibola Ned had also stored the swathed 
mummy of an Aztec chief. And in the same 
place, so that it might be safer from breakage, 
was also stored the sneering idol found by Bob. 

“If all goes well, with you and with us,” ex- 
plained Ned to Bob, “you ought to reach Mc- 
Elmo in four days. By that time we shall have 
carried Major Honeywell to this place, shown 
him the mesa and returned to join you in Senor 
Oje’s camp.” 

“And if anything does go wrong?” exclaimed 
Bob, stretched on his back in tired relaxation. 

“If it’s you,” answered Ned jovially, “I guess 
the Cibola can come to your help.” 


144 


The Airship Boys 


‘‘And if it’s the Cibola?'' persisted Bob. 

No one replied for a moment and then Salty 
Bill, sitting somewhat removed and drawing on 
hi§ sputtering pipe, said slowly: 

“I reckon we kin do the same fur the balloon.” 

None knew then how soon Ned and Alan were 
to be in sore need of help, which Salty Bill with 
all his loyalty and zeal would not be able to give 
them. 

At the last moment Ned decided to pass the 
night with the old guide on th^ plain beneath, and 
long before he and Salty Bill had made the tire- 
some descent the other boys were fast asleep. 

Some time after midnight, to his consternation, 
Ned was awakened by a drizzle of rain. He made 
himself as comfortable as he could in his bed 
roll, but his heart sank as the shower finally set- 
tled into a steady downpour; and when he and 
Salty Bill climbed up the mesa at what should 
have been daylight the young leader was in a 
quandary that bordered on despair. The bag of 
the Cibola and its net lay heavy on the ground. 
In the steady rain still falling there was not the 
slightest hope for infiation. Ned and Alan had a 
long and earnest conference, and as Salty Bill 
served a damp and frugal breakfast in the tem- 
ple chamber, Ned announced the result: 

“The land party leaves at once,” he said firm- 


V 






i 


t 







\ 

-I 





f 



I 


L 


i ■ 




r t 





I 


* • 





$ 


I 

ft • 


I 


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The Group Made its Way to the Plain Below 



The Return Caravan Sets Out 145 


ly. “Our limited stock of provisions makes this 
absolutely necessary. Alan and I will leave on 
the Cibola when the sun comes out and we can 
fill her.” 

The others could hardly believe their senses. 

“You can’t fill her alone,” exclaimed Bob. 

“We’ve got to fill her alone,” answered Ned 
with determination. 

There was no arguing with the young aeronaut 
when he took the tone he now used. A half hour 
later the far from cheerful group made its way 
through the persistent rain down the chasm steps 
to the tunnel, and then, one by one, to the plain 
below. In the work of repacking and cinching the 
animals the spirits of all rose somewhat and 
there was even some cheerfulness. Then came the 
farewells, and, his pipe newly lit. Salty Bill 
grasped each boy by the hand. 

“We’ll git out all right, boys, and I ain’t no 
doubt ye’ll do the same. Ef ye can’t, why, jist 
stick it out an’ I’ll be back in a week. And don’t 
ye leave onless everything’s all right. Wait fur 
me.” 

Elmer said good-bye under protest. 

“Don’t you s’pose I’d better stay?” he peti- 
tioned. “I’m kind o’ handy ’round a balloon.” 

But Ned shook his head. 

‘TDon’t worry about us, Elmer,” he said smil- 


146 


The Airship Boys 


ing. “You help get the metal and pottery out. 
We’ll be all right.” 

Then came the last grasp of Bob’s hand. As 
Bob’s fingers touched Ned’s, the young reporter 
felt a small hard object. He started in surprise, 
but he did not even look. He knew instantly that 
Ned had placed the precious emerald in his grasp. 
And he knew, too, without words, what that 
meant. Wringing his young leader’s hand anew 
Bob, with tears almost showing in his eyes, ex- 
claimed : 

“Good-bye, boys. We realize what we have to 
do and we’ll do it. There won’t be a thing, big 
or httle, broken or lost. Meet us at the camp on 
McElmo. And let the first fellows there start 
the beans a-boiling. Good-bye 1” 

Ned and Alan followed the little train to the 
end of the mesa and then, sitting on the rocks, 
watched it grow smaller and smaller in the gray 
mist of the still falling rain. At last Salty Bill 
and his companions reached a jutting spur of 
the hills far to the east. There was an indistinct 
view of waving hats, the muffled crack of a re- 
volver shot and the burros gradually disappeared 
behind the rocks. 

The two boys looked at each other and Ned 
laughed. 

“Old man,” he said at last, throwing his arm 


The Return Caravan Sets Out 147 


about Alan’s shoulders. “When a fellow is 
stranded on an island in the sea he has to swim 
or stay. When you are stranded on an island in 
the sky you’ve got to fly. Let’s get busy and 
%•” 

The boys slowly scaled the wet face of the tow- 
ering mesa, drew up the rope ladder — ^wonder- 
ing if they were ever to lower it again — made 
their way once more through the close, damp tun- 
nel and the chasm, and thence to the temple and 
the balloon. They were helpless until the rain 
should cease and the sun come out. As there was 
nothing more to be done until they could begin 
Ailing the dried-out bag, Ned and Alan found 
time for a real rest and leisure to think. 

Just at dark the soft, misty rain ceased wholly. 
But in the dark work on the balloon was out of 
the question, and, besides, the bag was yet heavy 
and unmanageable. 

“We’ll get up at three o’clock,” suggested Ned, 
“and begin work with the first light.” 

Before the boys turned in that night the moon 
came out brilliantly with promise of a fine day 
on the morrow. But the promise was not ful- 
filled. Twice in the night the rain began again 
and ceased and when day broke a north wind was 
sweeping over the mesa that was as bad for the 
work in hand as the rain. 


148 


The Airship Boys 


“There’s nothing to do but wait,” said Alan 
philosophically. “Grin and bear it; it’s bound 
to end some time.” 

“We can at least dry the bag,” suggested Ned. 
“That will help some.” 

The sun did not appear once during the day. 
Nor did the wind, though it swelled and dimin- 
ished in turn, once fall so low as to permit of be- 
ginning work. The great silken bag was raised 
on low supports, carefully weighted, and thus 
dried. But, between dawn and dark, it was never 
possible to attempt raising it in the air where 
there was a chance that it would be whipped into 
shreds. So the second day of waiting passed. 

About the middle of the afternoon Alan, im- 
patient over the delay and tired of idleness, sud- 
denly determined to spend an hour or so in the 
kliiva secret chamber. 

“I may pick up something we’ve overlooked,” 
he said with a laugh. 

Procuring a couple of candles, he invited Ned 
to accompany him. But the latter, who had been 
sitting a good part of the day near the big Cibola 
car, seemed scarcely to hear the invitation. 

“What are you doing? Figuring out a new 
balloon?” asked Alan. 

Ned turned. “No,” he answered at last. “I 
was just thinking — but go on. I’ll stay here.” 


The Return Caravan Sets Out 149 


And before Alan left him Ned had again 
turned to the spruce and aluminum car and was 
once more oblivious to all else in a close exami- 
nation of it. After Alan disappeared in the khiva 
Ned hung over the car, its engine and its equip- 
ment as if consumed with a sudden curiosity. 
Then he stepped back and examined the craft 
from a distance, and then again threw himself 
flat on the paved walk ; and finally he began mak- 
ing sketches in his note book. 

Had there been any one to observe him he 
would have seen that the young aeronaut was en- 
grossed with some idea. But Alan was busy 
with the dusty remains in the treasure room be- 
low, and Ned sat and thought and figured un- 
seen and undisturbed. At last, suddenly con- 
scious that the afternoon was waning, the lad 
aroused himself, closed his note book, and, re- 
calling the long absence of his chum, hastened 
toward the khiva opening. 


CHAPTER XIV 

AFLOAT ONCE MORE 

As Ned hurried in search of his chum he no- 
ticed that the sudden gloom was not wholly that 
of the coming night. Dark clouds had again 
banked up in the north and, for the first time, 
there was a suggestion of chill in the air. A 
puff of cool wind whirled the ashes of the cook 
fire in a little cloud. On the lake at home Ned 
would have said that the conditions presaged a 
wind storm. He hesitated. 

Resting on the uneven temple walls, al- 
though weighted against the steady breeze of the 
day, the bag was in the worst possible position to 
face a high wind. So Ned threw off the rocks 
that had been used to hold down the silken folds 
and attempted to roll up the delicate fabric. But 
without Alan this was difficult work. 

Dropping the bag he ran to the mouth of the 
khiva and called to his chum. There was no 
answer. Thrusting his head into the opening he 
shouted again. Still no answer. He looked at 
the sky. The air was quiet but everything fore- 
boded a sudden and violent storm. Should it 
come and irreparably damage the precious bag 
150 


Afloat Once More 


151 


— but that possibility Ned put aside instantly. 
His thought was now wholly of Alan. For an- 
other moment he glanced about and then, leav- 
ing the balloon to its fate, he sprang into the 
opening beneath him. 

Then he remembered that he had no light — » 
even his match bottle he had put aside when he 
changed his wet clothes the night before. But 
he stumbled hastily through the suffocating dust, 
feeling his way forward by the circling pillars. 
And with each step he called anew. But in the 
tomblike silence there was no answer but the 
muffled echo of his own alarmed voice. Then he 
paused to think. What could have happened to 
his companion? He could think of but one 
thing — asphyxiation. 

Even the delay of securing a light might be 
fatal. The space to be explored was small. He 
would do it without the help of a light. Push- 
ing his way to the edge of the circular chamber 
he made a circuit of the place. But he knew that 
while he was doing this Alan might be lying 
helpless only a few feet beyond the narrow cir- 
cle of his exploration. And even that work, as 
hastily as it was done, nearly suffocated the agi- 
tated Ned. He was choking with dust and pant- 
ing from his exertion. 

When he reached the tunnel leading to the east 


152 


The Airship Boys 


he paused again, dazed and undecided. Then he 
plunged into this passageway. The Room of 
the Mummies, at the far end, was smaller. The 
chance of suffocation was even greater there, but 
plucky Ned did not debate the matter. If Alan 
were there he must find him. In time he reached 
the east room and dragged himself from wall to 
wall in his quest. The room was empty, Ned 
felt his way along the rude benches on which 
rested the mummies. Even the gruesome touch 
of these did not revolt him. His only thought 
was of Alan — his chum! 

Again he called. But now only a hoarse cry 
escaped him. His throat and lungs were clogged 
with dust. Thep he realized that he himself was 
in peril. At the same moment his half -muddled 
thoughts fixed themselves on the secret chamber 
beneath the khiva. It was the only place left. 
Dragging himself along the wall benches Ned 
reached the tunnel again, and then, leaning 
against the rude masonry, he started back. The 
heat had grown intense. His fingers were bleed- 
ing and his breath came in labored gasps. 

Without knowing how he accomplished it Ned 
found himself at last lying over the little entrance 
to the second secret chamber under the khiva. 
He called hoarsely again and again, but there 
was no answer. Then he knew that he must have 


Afloat Once More 


15a 


air or further search would be impossible, and, 
wet with perspiration, choked with dust and ex- 
hausted with the strain, he crawled with great ef- 
fort to the near-by ladder. At the foot of it he 
fell. But a breath of air put new life in him and 
with a last desperate attempt he drew himself to 
the opening above. 

As he reached the top of the ladder a roar of 
wind swept over him. With it his wandering 
thoughts rushed back. His trembling limbs and 
bleeding face and hands were forgotten. The 
balloon! It must be saved. 

Springing forward, the weakened boy fell, but 
was up in a moment and staggering ahead. At 
the temple corner he paused an instant and then, 
feeling stronger, he hurried around the struc- 
ture. As he emerged from behind the temple 
wall the real storm broke. He heard a pine tree 
snap and then suddenly the great bag of the 
Cibola rose in the air like a yellow cloud. Ned’s 
heart sank. Then hope sprang up in him. The 
silken, snapping bag had caught on the jagged 
rocks of the wall on which it had been spread. 

The puff of wind had passed and the flutter- 
ing bag sank again to the ground. Perhaps, 
after all, the damage would be no more than a 
tear that he could mend. With feverish activity 
Ned reached and caught the great silken pile, now 


154 


The Airship Boys 


bulging with imprisoned air. At the same mo- 
ment he stopped as if paralyzed. Directly oppo- 
site him in the half gloom he saw the set face of 
Alan. And Alan was as desperately at work on 
his side of the bag as was Ned. With feverish 
haste the boys hauled the delicate fabric together 
like a loose, flapping jib — neither boy speaking — 
and in less than a minute the two exhausted lads 
were holding the jumbled silken case safely be- 
hind a sheltering wall. 

Weak from his search and disconcerted by the 
narrowly arrested catastrophe, Ned was hardly 
in control of himself. The sight of his chum, safe 
and sound, completely upset him. With a cry of 
joy he threw himself on Alan, buried his head in 
his friend’s shoulder for a moment and then ex- 
claimed : 

“Where have you been? Are you all right?” 

“I? Why, I’ve been asleep in the temple. It 
must be late. But what’s the matter?” repeated 
Alan, as he began to appreciate Ned’s condition. 

“I’m a little upset,” murmured Ned. “I’ll be 
all right in a moment. You didn’t return. I 
thought you were in the khiva. You didn’t an- 
swer and I got nervous. I piled into the place 
and the dust rather knocked me out — ” 

Alan grasped his chum’s hand. 

“I can’t tell you how sorry I am, Ned,” he ex- 


A float Once More 


155 


claimed with feeling. “I did go into the khiva, 
but I came out in a little while. You were busy 
thinking and drawing. I didn’t disturb you. I 
went into the temple room and lay down and feU 
asleep. I’m awfully sorry.” 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about,” answered 
Ned, trying to smile. “I just got rattled. I 
guess this waiting got on my nerves. But it’s 
all right. We’ve saved the bag.” 

“Yes,” answered Alan. “We have. And now, 
what’s next?” 

Ned reached out his blood-smeared and be- 
grimed hands. 

“A bath for me,” he exclaimed cheerfully. 
“Even if it’s a canary-bird wash. Some supper 
and then — ^wait, I suppose, for this to blow 
over.” 

The next day brought joy to the two boys. It 
came with sunshine and calm. With a hasty 
breakfast Ned and Alan flew at the work await- 
ing them. Before seven o’clock the rescued bag 
had been rolled onto a blanket and drawn to the 
waiting car just outside the ruins. As if spread- 
ing the cloth at a picnic luncheon the young aero- 
nauts gently laid the silken folds on the sand. 
Then, suddenly, their gaiety changed to conster- 
nation. A glaring rip at least ten feet long un- 
folded before them. Alan was in despair. So, 


156 


The Airship Boys 


for a moment, was Ned. Then he laughed and 
looked at his watch. 

“Coming in bunches, isn’t it?” he said cheer- 
fully. “I suppose that means three hours’ work 
anyway. But I’m prepared for it.” 

Again Ned’s little black trunk was opened. 

“My repair kit,” he explained. And after a 
full examination of the bag to make sure that no 
other injury had been done to it, the two boys 
went at their task. It was not an easy job. The 
work resembled the mending of a sail, and the 
boys’ fingers seemed all thumbs. But with a dou- 
ble strip of silk as a foundation the severed edges 
were drawn together and crudely but closely 
united. More than once Ned and Alan, working 
from the two ends, arose to stretch themselves 
and straighten their backs. At eleven o’clock the 
sewing was done. 

Then Ned produced a can of dissolved rubber 
cement, which he applied to the seam. Allowing 
nearly another hour for this to dry thoroughly 
the seam was varnished, and it was then time for 
luncheon. The morning had been perfect. The 
dry air had a little crispness in it and the boys 
were full of new ardor. But in the midst of their 
luncheon came a new alarm — again a little breeze 
swept over the mesa top. The boys sprang up 
together. 


A float Once More 


157 


“There’s no use in hurrying now,” suggested 
Ned. “If it’s coming again, it’s coming.” 

But the new breeze was so light that the boys 
determined to take chances, and they continued 
their preparations. 

Since it was manifestly impossible for the boys 
to inflate the big bag before connecting it with 
the car, Ned and Alan boldly decided to attempt 
another method. The bottom of the great silken 
envelope was carefully lifted to the top of the 
car. Then the inflation tube was passed through 
a hole made in the network of the bridge and ex- 
tended to the ground. This done, the balloon bag 
itself was laid in loose, lateral folds on the run- 
way extending from end to end on top of the car. 
The overlapping ends of the bag were piled loose- 
ly in the ends of the runway free of the rudder 
and propeller. The giant net was then laid over 
all. The top of it was centered over the middle 
of the runway and the supporting ropes were 
made fast to the car frame, each in its place. 

The bags of sand which had been prepared to 
hold the balloon while it was being filled in the 
ordinary way now came into a new use. They 
were piled along the lower framework of the car 
to insure an anchorage until all was ready for the 
departure. This took the boys about half the 
afternoon. The breeze continued, but it was not 


158 


The. Airship Boys 


as strong as the day before. And yet, while it 
held, Ned did not dare to think of inflating the 
bag. 

All other preparations having been completed, 
the boys made everything taut and snug in the 
car. The Aztec chieftain mummy, shrouded in 
a piece of the captive balloon, was lashed to the 
net on the bridge of the car. The wonderful 
sneering idol, to avoid damage from a possible 
jar, was suspended from the cabin roof by a rope 
around its neck. The little food left was put 
aboard and the water bottles were filled. 

The boys were just thinking of rolling up the 
empty bag for the night when, suddenly, the wind 
fell. It was a quarter to five o’clock. 

‘‘Well,” exclaimed Alan, looking at Ned, 
“shall we do it? We can fill the bag by dark and 
leave at dawn.” 

For answer Ned walked over to the pile of 
hydrogen cylinders and rolled one hastily to the 
place arranged. The inflation hose and tube were 
ready. With a few quick turns the coupling on 
the hose was made fast to the cylinder valve and 
a half turn of a wrench set free the precious gas. 

This was admitted slowly at first, that it might 
be distributed without undue pressure on any one 
fold of the •bag. As the expanding hydrogen 
rushed through the big inflation tube and made 


Afloat Once More 


159 


its way into the limp folds of the bag above, Ned, 
making his way back and forth along the frame- 
work of the car, shook out the folds of the bal- 
loon and adjusted the net. Then it was that the 
two boys experienced every difficulty they had 
anticipated and a few they had not foreseen. 

As the bag filled and rose and shifted lazily un- 
der its new buoyancy, the task became too much 
for Ned. More than once Alan came to his as- 
sistance. Lost in the billowy folds of the sway- 
ing envelope the perspiring boys tugged and 
strained and shouted to each other as they strove 
to center the bag properly in the net. 

In the course of the work both boys had 
crawled to the same side of the car. The crowd- 
ing bag had been held back by pushing in the 
protuberant sides. Suddenly the bag got beyond 
the boys’ control. Swinging forward, it settled 
on Ned and Alan in a big, smothering billow. 
Unable to push the balloon back and unable to 
call to each other, both boys found it necessary to 
loosen their hold on the car and drop to the 
ground. And before either could speak both 
made the alarming discovery that the wind was 
rising again. 

‘Tf we are in for it, let’s finish the job,” ex- 
claimed Alan. 

The big bag seemed infused with savage life 


160 


The Airship Boys 


by the breeze. Its lunge forward seemed to set- 
tle it in the net and in places it was already tug- 
ging at the car supports. Four more cylinders 
of gas remained to be emptied, and it was rap- 
idly growing dark. Both boys sprang to the task 
of changing the tanks. By the time two of these 
had been emptied, night had fallen, and the 
Cibola was straining in the rising breeze. Down 
from the dark mass, dimly outlined above, reached 
the taut car supports. 

“I guess she has almost all she can stand,” sug- 
gested Alan. 

‘"No,” exclaimed Ned, ‘‘it’s the wind. Give 
her all you have. We may need it tomorrow.” 

Another cylinder was attached and emptied. 
While Alan did this, working in the dark, Ned 
took time to look about. The sun, which had gone 
down a blood-red disc, had been followed by al- 
most immediate darkness. The hazy blue sky of 
the evening had become a black dome unpierced 
by a star. And there was something about the 
fickle wind that Ned did not like. It was gusty 
and presaged a storm. 

Even as he studied the situation a new and 
stronger puff hit him. He ran swiftly to the bal- 
loon. The over-spreading bag had felt the force 
of the puff and the car was creaking under the 
strain. 


A float Once More 


161 


The situation was serious. Another such puff 
and the Cibola's bag might be punctured. The 
last cylinder was being emptied. If the wind 
continued there was but one thing to do — cut 
loose. The two boys hastened to the car. Each 
knew what the other was thinking. 

“The only trouble about going up at once,” 
said Ned at last, “is that we’ll certainly drift. We 
can’t hope to pick up the McElmo Canyon camp 
in the dark and in a heavy storm we may lose our 
bearings.” 

“Anyway,” suggested Alan, “there’s nothing 
more to do on the mesa. Let’s get aboard.” 

Closing the inflation tube, they did so, and once 
again the Cibola was manned and ready for 
flight. 

“Feels homelike, anyway,” went on Alan. 
Ned made no response. 

Several light gusts of wind followed and the 
big bag swung above them like a pendulum. Each 
time the young aeronauts’ hearts sank with ap- 
prehension. Then followed a calm. Ned’s con- 
clusion had been reached. 

“She’s coming,” he exclaimed quickly. “I can 
feel it. It’s our only chance. Heave over the 
bags.” 

With all the speed they could make in the in- 
tense darkness both boys fell to the task. 


162 


The Airship Boys 


“All ready,” shouted Ned. “One!” 

As he gave the word each boy tumbled a heavy 
bag overboard. To preserve the car’s balance 
they worked simultaneously at both ends of the 
lower runway. 

“Two!” As Ned spoke the distant sound of 
the wind filled the night. 

“It’s a hurricane,” shouted Ned. ^^JLet ^em all 

gor 

But they were too late. With a hiss the fore- 
runner of the storm arrived, and the great bag, 
falling before it, hit the ground. 

There was no need for further orders. Each 
boy knew that his speed meant their safety. The 
wind was from the northeast, and the car lay 
north and south. As the bag lunged before the 
gale the bow shot upward. Ned, who was work- 
ing on the front runway, slipped, caught at the 
car supports, and a dozen bags of sand slid to 
the ground. The accident was the salvation of 
the straining car and the pounding bag. Poised 
for a moment at an angle of forty-five degrees, 
the skeleton car creaked, and then, like a released 
spring, righted. The mesa shot out from under 
the clinging boys and the Cibola on the breast of 
the storm hurled itself into black space. 


CHAPTER XV 

A MAELSTROM AMONG THE CLOUDS. 

The released Cibola shot upward into the void 
of night with unmeasured speed. Laboriously 
regaining his foothold on the runway, Xed, 
thinking only of his chum, hastily made his way 
on his hands and knees to the cabin and then to 
the rear runway. 

“Alan,” he shouted. “Are you safe?” 

For answer there was an exclamation of joy. 

“I was afraid to call out,” responded the wel- 
come voice of Alan. “I was afraid you — you — ” 

“Had dropped off?” Ned finished for him. 
“Well, I didn’t. And we are all right, safe from 
stone walls and trees at least. Did you save any 
of the ballast?” 

“That’s what I’m doing,” was the cheery re- 
ply. “I’m lying on about a dozen bags of it. If 
we’re done bumping I’ll get up. Give me a 
hand.” 

When the valuable bags that Alan at the risk 
of his own life had preserved from sliding over- 
board had been carefully carried into the cabin 
of the Cibola, the young aeronauts climbed onto 
the bridge of the flying balloon. Then they at- 
163 


164 


The Airship Boys 


tempted to get their bearings. The inclined sup- 
port ropes plainly indicated that the Cibola was 
flying silently before a tremendous wind. And 
the rapidly lowering temperature was proof that 
they had already reached a high altitude. The 
boys could easily perceive that they were now 
shooting upward with uncontrollable speed. The 
loss of fifteen sand bags on the forward runway 
and three on the rear runway meant that the bal- 
loon was nearly five hundred pounds too light. 

There was no need to consult the compass. The 
direction of the wind on the mesa and the sharp 
angle of the ropes made it plain that the Cibola 
was driving with tremendous velocity to the south- 
west. 

‘T suppose it’s useless to think of starting the 
propeller against this wind,” said Alan, pulling 
his cap low on his head and clinging to the bridge 
net. 

“It is,” answered Ned. “We might alter our 
course, but we are sure to break something. And 
why should we? We should only use good gaso- 
line. We’ll need all of that if we lose ourselves. 
Certainly we can’t think of a landing. We must 
ride out the gale.” 

“How about the altitude?” asked Alan, close- 
ly buttoning his jacket as a new and sudden chill 
struck them. Before he could reply a fog blotted 


A Maelstrom Among the Clouds 165 

the boys from sight of each other, although they 
were but a few feet apart. 

“That’s a cloud,” shouted Ned, feeling his way 
along the protecting net. “We are surely get- 
ting up. Let’s have a look at the barometer.” 

Crawling to the cabin ladder, Ned and Alan 
made their way below and fumbling about in the 
dark at last got their hands on the supply box 
and the flash lantern. 

“Sixteen thousand, four hundred feet,” said 
Ned, as the light fell on the instrument swinging 
just over the pilot platform. 

“Look!” exclaimed Alan excitedly, as he 
pointed to the cabin window. 

The scudding car had passed into a flood of 
moonlight. 

“Above the clouds,” explained Ned. “But not 
above the storm.” 

It was true. The Cibola had penetrated and 
passed through the stratum of clouds covering 
the mountains and desert below. The sight was 
magnificent. 

“We may as well go up and enjoy it,” sug- 
gested Ned. “But we’ll be comfortable while we 
are at it.” 

On Ned’s advice they wrapped themselves in 
double blankets and once more mounted to the 
bridge. Below them, like banks of snow, a toss- 


166 


The Airship Boys 


ing sea of clouds flew swiftly in their wake. 
About them mile-long waves of vapor shot silver 
arrows, while, above, the black starry sky opened 
again like a velvet canopy studded with gems. A 
glance at the thermometer just before they 
emerged from the cabin showed that the mer- 
cury had already fallen to 28° above zero. 

The sight transfixed the boys. Grasp- 
ing the bridge supports and clinging together 
they stood for many minutes without words. 
Cloud ridges rushed into view and disappeared; 
and now and then, for a few moments, the rising 
Cibola cut its way through a chilling bank of 
vapory mist. 

“Have you any idea how fast we are travel- 
ing?” asked Alan at last, his teeth chattering and 
his face dripping with the almost freezing moist- 
ure from the clouds. 

“Anywhere between forty and sixty miles,” 
Ned answered. “But did you ever feel it so cold 
at 28° ?” 

For answer Alan grasped him by the arm. 

“The water!” he shouted. “The water in the 
cooling tubes!” 

In an instant both boys were in the cabin again. 
The possibility of the water in the cooling tubes 
freezing had been forgotten. Anxiously Ned 
flew to the engine and the tubes and hastily 


A Maelstrom Among the Clouds 167 


opened the exhaust cock. To his relief he found 
that the contents of the tubes were yet liquid. 
But both knew they were none too soon. Blan- 
kets were wrapped around the bank of tubes and 
made fast. This done, Ned looked at his watch. 
It was twenty minutes after nine o’clock. 

“We left the mesa just before eight o’clock,” 
he said, “and we’ve been an hour and twenty-five 
minutes on our travels.” 

Alan did a little mental calculation. 

“What’s seventy-five miles southwest of where 
we started?” he asked at last. 

“Desert,” answered Ned laughing. “Or, at 
the best, an Indian reservation.” 

Not caring to waste fuel in running the engine 
to provide electric light, and not daring to use a 
candle so near the hydrogen bag, the young 
aeronauts sat for a time in the dark and cheerless 
cabin. When the gloom became too oppressive 
they ascended to the bridge and then, driven back 
by the constantly increasing cold, they returned 
to the protected cabin again. Meanwhile the 
Cibola^ with what seemed to be ever-increasing 
velocity, darted onward through the silvery cloud- 
land like a gliding bird. 

“I think we’ll come back by train,” exclaimed 
Ned at last, slapping his chest with his benumbed 
hands. “We can’t reel off fifty or sixty miles an 


IGS The Airship Boys 

hour like this all night without getting some- 
where.” 

“Well,” said Alan after some thought, “we are 
not going to bump into anyone, and we can't 
stop. What’s the matter with a little snooze?” 

Ned answered by suggesting that they stand 
watches, but as there did not seem to be any real 
use in this he relinquished the idea. But before 
trying to sleep he consulted the barometer again. 

“Eighteen thousand feet,” he exclaimed. 
“That’s good. I guess we’ve stopped going up. 
Vapor on the bag,” he added. 

A short time later the two boys, curled up to- 
gether on the cabin floor and protected by the 
same blankets, tried to get some rest. For a long 
time neither moved nor spoke, each hoping that 
the other had fallen asleep. But Anally, thor- 
oughly chilled and wholly sleepless, they could 
keep quiet no longer. It had begun to grow dark 
again. As Alan sat up and peered out of the 
cabin Ned raised himself. 

“It’s getting dark,” said Alan. 

“I thought I was going to sleep,” answered 
Ned. Then he sprang up. “We may be fall- 
ing,” he added hastily. 

But it was a false alarm. The moon was swift- 
ly going down. It was now about half past twelve 
o’clock and the Cibola was still drifting with ter- 


A Maelstrom Among the Clouds 169 

rific speed toward the southwest. The boys 
hastened to the bridge. A scrap of paper tossed 
over showed that the car was no longer rising. 

Sleep being out of the question, Ned and Alan 
sought to kill time and get their blood in better 
circulation by walking back and forth on the 
upper runways. But as the moon gradually 
passed from sight and blackness again sur- 
rounded them, the boys gave up the hazardous 
patrol and made themselves as comfortable as 
they could in a corner of the bridge netting. 

In spite of their uncomfortable position both 
of them at last drifted into a kind of half-sleep 
out of which Ned was the first to arouse himself. 
His face and hair were dripping wet ; the bridge 
deck was heavy with moisture; not even a star 
was to be seen, and Ned was conscious that they 
were rushing through a dense fog. The hurri- 
cane was still driving them onward, but there were 
cross gusts and swirls of wind that drove the thick 
vapor in his face and indicated new air currents. 

The car itself had a new motion. It was mov- 
ing swiftly forward, but in leaps and bounds. 
Ned, for the first time, became alarmed. Arous- 
ing Alan he explained the situation. 

“What do you make of it?” anxiously asked 
Alan, striving in vain to distinguish something 
beyond the fog in which they were buried. 


170 


The Airship Boys 


“At sea,” answered Ned, “cross currents mean 
many things. They always mean storms. But 
we have a storm now. I — ” 

As he spoke the car shook violently and the 
support ropes shot off toward the side — a sure 
sign that the bag above was under a cross 
pressure. 

“Stand by the valve rope,” exclaimed Ned with 
alarm in his voice, “and don’t leave it.” 

A sudden gust of wind, apparently from be- 
low, had swept the chilling vapor cuttingly into 
their faces. 

’ “We may be falling!” 

He sprang into the cabin and caught up the 
barometer and flashlight. 

“No,” he called back a moment later reassur- 
ingly. “Still 18,000 feet — ^we’re not falling.” 

As he climbed back into the bridge there was 
another shock. The Cibola creaked and swerved 
again. Had Alan been near enough to Ned’s 
face he would have seen it turn pale with alarm. 
Again the young commander dropped into the 
cabin and sprang to the pilot platform. One 
flash of the light on the big compass confirmed 
his fears. The Cibola was turning, slowly but 
surely revolving, and even as he looked again 
Ned detected the increasing speed of the rota- 
tion. 


A Maelstrom Among the Clouds 171 


Hurrying back to the bridge he said, calmly 
enough now: 

“Alan, I guess we’re in for it. We’re in a wind- 
spout.” 

“A wind-spout?” whispered his chum. 

“And it’s as bad for a balloon as a water-spout 
is for a ship.” 

“I can’t feel it,” said Alan, anxiously. 

“And what’s worse, we can’t see it,” added 
Ned. “Hang onto that valve. We are on the 
edge of the spout. In a little time we may be in 
the vortex of it.” 

“And then?” asked Alan in alarm. 

“The wind will hug that bag up there like a 
vise. When the grip of the spout gets strong 
enough the compressed gas may tear open the 
bag. Then,” added Ned, “we’ll go down where 
it’s warmer — and pretty quick.” 

“Let’s throw open the valve and get out now, 
while we can,” shouted Alan. 

“That’s the thing to do,” answered his com- 
panion. “But we’ll take every chance first. We 
won’t waste a foot of gas until we have to. You 
hang onto the valve rope. I’ll watch the infla- 
tion tube. If the spout grips the bag I can tell 
it by the rush of gas in the tube. Until that 
comes we’ll ride it out — perhaps we can work our 
way through it.” 


172 


The Airship Boys 


The Cibola made a long, sweeping glide and 
then, to the surprise of the boys, its motion 
seemed almost to cease; with a tremble the craft 
seemed to poise ; the vapor surrounding it seemed 
to rush ahead and then, as if dropping down an 
incline, the car fell sideways with a jerk that 
threw both of the young aeronauts to their 
knees. 

“Did you open the valve?” shouted Ned. 

“No—” 

“Then do it — wide — pull!” 

But Alan was powerless to act. Before he 
could draw the cord the bag of the Cibola keeled 
on its side and then sprang up into the vortex 
of the wind-spout like a feather into a vacuum. 
As it righted and struck the gyrating maelstrom 
of air the sides of the great bag crushed towards 
each other, rebounded into place, and then the 
giant oblong shape almost doubling on itself, the 
straining silken envelope whirled into a twisting 
spiral. The car, responding like a weight at the 
end of a string, rushed toward the horizon and 
then, at an angle of nearly forty-five degrees, fol- 
lowed the twist of the bag in a great dizzying 
circle. 

Ned lay on the outer and higher run of the 
bridge, his arms thrust through the netting. To 
attempt to move was defying almost certain 


A Maelstrom Among the Clouds 173 

death. Alan, on the lower portion of the bridge, 
was safely jammed against the netting. 

‘‘The valve, Alan, — the valve!” 

Through the roar of the creaking car, the 
straining bag and the rush of wind came the an- 
swer: 

“She’s open — wide!” 

Ned could not even look above. He was un- 
der the strain of a man hanging from a trapeze. 
But he knew from the motion of the wildly fly- 
ing car that there was no pause in their ascent. 
They were being sucked into the maelstrom of 
air like a bit of straw. One thing only could 
happen. When the pressure of the gripping 
vortex became strong enough the bag of the 
Cibola would collapse. What could be done? 

“The rip cord!” called Ned. “Can you reach it?” 

He was conscious that Alan, although he 
could not see him, was attempting to pull himself 
to the corner of the bridge where the rip cord 
was made fast. It was a desperate chance. Sick 
with the nauseating spin of the swiftly whirling 
car Ned felt his hold weakening. But the use 
of the rip cord meant a sheer drop of two miles. 
The collapse of the bag itself would not be worse. 

“Wait,” he cried hoarsely; “wait — ” Like a 
man drowning he was grasping at straws. Then 
he closed his eyes and tried to think. 


174 


The Airship Boys 


Before he could say more or Alan could act 
the circling car lunged still higher with a mighty 
jerk and Ned’s benumbed fingers gave way. Like 
a rocket his body shot backwards along the 
bridge floor and struck the rear end with a thud. 
With a sickening rebound, before the exhausted 
boy could clutch the ropes, he plunged forward 
toward miles of empty space. But two strong 
young arms were awaiting him. At the risk of 
his life Alan had cast off his hold on the netting 
and thrown himself forward on the deck. With 
Ned clasped in his arms Alan rolled down against 
the light net. 

“The rip cord?” hoarsely whispered Ned, dig- 
ging his numbed fingers into the cordage. 
“Where?” 

But Alan did not answer. 

“The cord?” muttered Ned, thrusting his own 
cold face against Alan’s. But there was no an- 
swer. The plunge to the floor had knocked Alan 
senseless. In the realization of this new calamity 
Ned was doubly helpless. Powerless, he caught 
the unconscious form of his chum with one arm, 
fastened his free hand in the net and waited for 
the climax that he felt could not be averted — the 
certain explosion that was to drop the Cibola to 
destruction and death. 


CHAPTER XVI 


LOST IN THE SKY 

As Ned lay with eyes closed and hands clenched 
a swaying rope touched his face. Instantly he 
knew that it was the valve cord. He was power- 
less to grasp it. But, throwing up his head, he 
made one desperate effort to catch the line with 
his teeth. It had swung away and was lost in 
the darkness. Even in his desperation Ned won- 
dered why Alan’s opening of the valve had not 
caused the balloon to drop. As he thought, there 
was a new and sudden shock. 

The wildly flying car almost stopped. There 
was a jerk as if it had struck some object. For 
a moment an unseen force seemed straining on 
it from the rear. Then, whirling on its axis, it 
fell into the center of its circular course, where, 
with the sickening motion of a spinning top, it 
trembled an instant, and then shot straight up- 
ward. 

Almost paralyzed with new surprise, Ned 
could realize but one thing — ^the bridge was 
horizontal. Something extraordinary had hap- 
pened. The circular motion had stopped, and 
the Cibola, with only a dying swirl, was free of 
the maelstrom of wind. 

175 


176 


The Airship Boys 


“We’ve been cast out of the vortex,” was Ned’s 
thought. Drawing Alan nearer the center of the 
bridge the boy threw himself down beside his un- 
conscious friend and gasped for breath. Then 
he suddenly realized that the numbness of his 
hands was not wholly due to the now intense cold. 
He became conscious, too, that his quick and fee- 
ble breathing was not caused by exertion. The 
balloon had been thrown to a tremendous altitude. 
The rarefied atmosphere scarcely supported life. 

With a new effort he leaned over Alan’s pros- 
trate form. The unconscious boy seemed hardly 
breathing. His face and hands were cold as ice. 

Almost overcome, himself, Ned finally made 
his way with freezing limbs to the valve cord cor- 
ner of the bridge. The rope was there. He 
reached for it with a despairing effort. But his 
chilled fingers would not close. With one more 
struggle he half rose, threw his stiffened arm 
about the cord, pressed it against his body and 
then fell senseless on Alan’s cold form. 

How long he was unconscious he did not know. 
When his senses came back the Cibola was again 
in the path of the storm. The straining ropes 
and the creaking car told him they were once 
more on their swift course to the southwest. But 
the horrible circular spin was gone, and he could 
breathe again. Before his unconscious body had 


Lost in the Sky 


177 


released the valve cord enough gas had escaped 
to save them. They had dropped thousands of 
feet — how far he could not even guess. 

But he knew that he could breathe again and 
that, for a time at least, they were safe. His 
instant thought was of his chum. Crawling into 
the cabin for a water bottle and some blankets 
he could not resist a glance at the barometer. It 
showed that they were a little over 8,500 feet in 
the air. They had dropped nearly two miles. On 
the way back to Alan a new alarm came suddenly 
to Ned. He hesitated a moment, and then the 
thought of Alan’s condition driving the idea 
from him, he hurried to the bridge. The rising 
temperature and the lower altitude had just 
aroused the unconscious boy and Ned found him 
partly in his senses again. A wet handkerchief 
on Alan’s face and a warm blanket about his 
shoulders soon made the boy sensible of the situ- 
ation. 

Ned told him how the wind-spout had hurled 
them out of its terrific vortex and how he in fall- 
ing unconscious had apparently held to the valve 
cord long enough to bring the Cibola to its pres- 
ent level. 

“Why didn’t it drop when I opened the valve?” 
asked Alan. 

Ned’s only explanation was: “The force of the 


178 


The Airship Boys 


spout probably pulled us up in spite of our loss 
of gas, just as a maelstrom at sea will drag a 
vessel down to destruction.” 

“But after we were out of it, why didn’t we 
stay up?” persisted Alan. 

Ned answered. “If you hadn’t been uncon- 
scious you wouldn’t ask. Before we got well into 
that whirlwind we were 18,500 feet up. I don’t 
doubt that the storm hurled us more than a mile 
higher. On a guess I’d say we were nearly 25,000 
feet in the air. The temperature must have been 
down near zero. And you know you don’t 
breathe well five miles above the earth. We had 
to come down.” 

“And where are we now?” 

“Where?” answered Ned. “I don’t know. 
But we’re going southwest and the hurricane is 
still doing business. That’s what I’m bothered 
about. I was just going to see what time it is.” 

Alan was able by this time to move himself 
and the boys made their way once more into the 
cabin. It was again inky dark and the balloon 
was driving on steadily and evenly like a ship 
under full sail. 

“Two-thirty,” exclaimed Alan, as Ned flashed 
the light. 

“That makes six hours and thirty-five minutes 
since we started,” said Ned. “At forty miles an 


Lost in the Sky 


179 


hour, and I think that is a fair estimate, we may 
be two hundred and eighty miles off our course.” 

Alan whistled. “It certainly does look as if 
we’d go back by train.” 

“I don’t know,” answered Ned doubtfully as 
he turned the flashlight on the sectional map of 
the southwest United States hanging just in 
front of the pilot wheel. “Two hundred and 
eighty miles southwest of the mesa puts us just 
over the most arid part of Arizona.” 

“Then what?” inquired Alan, peering over his 
shoulder. 

“We shan’t be able to make out the lay of the 
land beneath us until day breaks. That will be 
at six o’clock. Then we’ll be over Mexico. If civ- 
ilization isn’t in sight we’ll have to go on until 
we sight a town — ” 

“Mexico?” exclaimed Alan. “Why, I’ve never 
been out of the United States.” 

“You may make your first trip abroad, then, 
before breakfast,” answered Ned with some of his 
old-time cheeriness. 

After some further speculation on the desira- 
bility of making a landing as soon as it was light 
enough to make out the nature of the land be- 
neath, the young aeronauts decided that each 
would take a short rest. The first watch fell to 
N ed. At half past four, as there was yet no less- 


180 


The Airship Boys 


ening of the long continued storm and no sign 
of dawn, and the barometer still showed a little 
over eight thousand feet altitude, Ned wrapped 
himself in blankets and Alan took the second trick 
as lookout. 

An hour and a half later he aroused Ned. 

“It’s just getting light,” he explained. 

“Can you make out anything yet?” asked Ned 
sleepily. 

“Nothing but clouds,” answered Alan. 
“There’s a gray stretch of them as far as you can 
see.” 

“And the wind?” 

“Steady and strong as the Overland Express.” 

“Have we gone up?” 

“Still at eight thousand feet.” 

Ned looked out of the pilot window. The sky 
of night had not yet begun to show pink, but 
there was a softening in the gloom that hinted of 
the coming day. The boys clambered to the 
bridge. For the first time in over nine hours they 
could make out the vague form of the Cibola s 
bulging bag. Rushing ahead of the car like a 
pulling sail it almost obscured a view of the sky 
above. Ned looked below. Like a carpet, a misty 
stretch of fog or clouds filled the circle of their 
horizon. 

“Nine hours and a half,” said Ned, after a 


Lost in the Sky 


181 


mental calculation. “That may mean four hun- 
dred miles. I think we’d better go down at once. 
You know the Gulf of California isn’t far 
away.” 

“We haven’t gone that far, have we?” ex- 
claimed Alan anxiously. 

“We don’t want to,” answered Ned. “And 
since we’ve got to lose more gas some time, we 
may as well do it now. Open the valve, a little 
at a time, and I’ll watch the glass.” 

“Here she goes!” sang out Alan, as Ned made 
his way to the cabin and took his stand by the 
barometer. The Cibola responded with the speed 
that had marked its all-night course. 

“Seven thousand feet,” called out Ned. “Give 
her another pull.” 

The first soft glow of dawn shot up in the east 
and the heavy sky above began to take the form 
of overlapping banks of clouds. 

“Six thousand — ” 

“Ned!” shouted Alan, before his chum could 
finish. “Here!” 

There was alarm in Alan’s voice, and Ned 
sprang up the ladder instantly. Alan was hang- 
ing over the protecting net of the bridge with his 
eyes fixed on the gray waste that stretched be- 
neath them. 

“What?” 


182 


The Airship Boys 


But there was no need for an answer. The 
first pale streak of day told all. 

‘‘Water,’’ exclaimed Alan springing back in 
consternation. 

Ned took one sweeping glance around the hori- 
zon. There was not a break in the line. 

“The sea,” he added, “and out of sight of 
land.” 

The boys looked at each other helplessly. 

“Do you think it is the Gulf of California?” 
whispered Alan with a tremor of alarm. 

“It must be,” replied Ned at last. “But that 
means we’ve gone faster than forty miles an 
hour.” 

Alan’s voice strengthened under a sudden 
thought. 

“But there’s land on the other side,” he ex- 
claimed quickly. 

“Yes,” responded Ned, looking thoughtfully 
ahead and then behind. “But that body of water 
is not much over a hundred miles wide. There’s 
no sign of shore here.” • 

“What do you mean?” asked Alan, his voice 
dropping into a whisper again. 

“I mean,” answered Ned with plain anxiety in 
his tone, “that all our calculations may have been 
wrong. We may have been making over sixty 
miles an hour all night.” 


Lost in the Shy 


183 


“And that — ” began Alan nervously. 

“We may be fifty miles or more at sea over the 
Pacific.” 

Almost speechless with alarm the two boys 
turned their eyes on the far-reaching water be- 
neath. They were now no longer descending, but 
the sun was coming with a golden glow, and in 
the fast increasing light the foam crowned crests 
of high rolling waves were plain beneath them. 
Ned descended into the cabin and returned with 
the binoculars. After a long, careful sweep of 
the horizon he passed them to Alan. 

“Not a sign,” exclaimed Alan, when he had 
done the same. “Not even a distant peak.” 

“Well,” remarked Ned as he took the glasses 
again, “we have one thing to be thankful for — ^ 
the wind is going down.” 

It was true. With the first shaft of the sun 
the hurricane seemed to break. 

“And when it grows calm enough,” added Ned 
with some courage in his voice, “we ought not 
have much trouble in making land with our pro- 
peller. We can’t be far from the shore at the 
worst.” 

With this assurance, the perplexed boys gave 
their whole thought to the wind. The angle of 
the support ropes was already much more acute. 
The big bag was now almost directly overhead, in- 


184 


The Airship Boys 


dicating that the force of the wind was diminish- 
ing rapidly. At six o’clock day had broken into 
a glory of white and gold above and an endless 
roll of blue and green beneath. 

“It’s the Pacific, all right,” commented Ned 
at last. “If it weren’t we’d have made out land 
before this. Let’s have a try with our engine. 
We don’t want to go nearer Hawaii than we 
have to.” 

Eagerly enough the young aeronauts went be- 
low. The water in the cooling tank was found 
unfrozen, and stripping the protecting blankets 
from the tubes the boys made ready to start the 
engine. The gasoline and batteries were tested 
and found to be in good shape, and in another 
moment, with Alan at the crank, the long silent 
but perfectly adjusted engine was once more in 
motion. The velvety hum of its powerful cyl- 
inders was music to the ears of the young advent- 
urers. I 

Ned took his stand on the pilot platform. 
While they had been drifting with the wind the 
rudder had been powerless. But, as soon as the 
friction clutch brought the great propeller into 
faster and faster motion, the car began to gain 
on the dying wind. 

“Fine!” shouted Alan, thrusting his head 
through the side window to admire the wide sweep 


Lost in the Sky 185 

of the white propeller arms. “Try a turn off the 
wind.” 

Very gently Ned tautened the guide wires 
on the loosely swinging rudder and then brought 
it slightly against the wind. The car, checking 
itself, wavered a moment and then responded. 

“Here she goes,” shouted Ned in his en- 
thusiasm. “She’s all right — shell stand this 
breeze.” 

With a slow turn he brought the rudder hard 
down and the Cibola dipped to the right and 
downward. Before the car was fairly on the long 
swing there was a crash. Five hundred pounds 
of sand bags piled loosely on the floor of the cabin 
slipped forward, heaped themselves in a mass un- 
der the pilot platform and then, sinking through 
the thin spruce floor, plunged into the distant 
water beneath. Ned toppled backward from the 
platform, narrowly escaping the gap made in 
the floor by the lost ballast, and before he could 
recover himself the Cibola was bounding upward 
with a roar. 

The terrific speed of the balloon was far too 
great to be checked by propeller or aeroplanes. 
As the car righted, Ned and Alan collected their 
thoughts, shut off the engine and climbed to the 
bridge above. Alan mechanically walked to the 
valve cord. 


186 


The Airship Boys 


“Check her,” ordered Ned, as he realized that 
the bag was rushing skyward at a fearful speed. 
“It may be all right higher and it may be all 
wrong. We may catch a high stratum of wind 
there. Open the valve I” 

Alan reached for the cord when Ned stopped 
him with a shout. 

“Wait,” he cried; “I didn’t think. It’ll take a 
lot of gas to offset all those bags. Wait; perhaps 
we can’t afford to lose it. We’ll have to risk it 
for awhile.” 

And, as he feared — the Cibola ascending over 
a mile in two minutes — the car plunged almost at 
once into a stronger current, that again carried 
them rapidly westward. What was worse, the 
breeze was too strong for the Cibola s propeller. 
The boys were indeed in sore straits. 

Again Ned took the binoculars. With the first 
sweep of them he paused, fixed them on a point 
almost directly in their path miles ahead and then 
handed the glasses to Alan. 

“Looks like a ship — like a wreck,” exclaimed 
Alan. 

“It is,” added Ned. “A three-masted vessel 
with the foremast gone.” 

They looked at each other significantly. 

“It’s good to see something, anyway,” said 
Alan with a trace of hope in his voice. 


Lost in the Sky 187 

“We’ll go down,” exclaimed Ned decisively, 
“at any cost.” 

With a quick movement in response Alan 
pulled the cord. With all the patience they could 
summon the youthful navigators awaited the re- 
sult. 

“A quarter of our gas has got to go out before 
we’ll stop,” remarked Ned after some minutes, 
“counting what we’ve already lost.” 

Meanwhile the Cibola raced forward toward 
the black hulk directly in its path. 

“Do you make out any one aboard?” asked 
Alan, when Ned had again put the glasses on 
the wreck. 

“Not a soul.” 

At this moment the Cibola wavered like a bal- 
anced scale, came to an instant’s pause and then 
began to drift downward. 

“Enough,” shouted Ned. “Close her.” 

Alan released the cord. There was no re- 
sponse. The line lay loose in his hand. 

“Close her,” shouted Ned, springing forward 
and grasping the cord. 

But it neither gave nor responded to his jerk. 

The valve had caught, and the Cibola was al- 
ready falling like a stone into the Pacific beneath. 


CHAPTER XVII 

THE DERELICT. 

“The ballast or we’re lost!” 

As Ned shouted these words he sprang to the 
ladder. With a bound he was on the bridge slash- 
ing at the bags of precious sand tied to the net- 
ting. Alan, not slower, worked with frenzy at 
those on the opposite side. Three hundred 
pounds of sand disappeared overboard before the 
Cibola had fallen a thousand feet. The great 
bag wavered, and seemed to shake itself. Then 
there was a momentary rise. 

“Is it enough?” exclaimed Alan panting. 

“A ton isn’t enough now,” answered Ned 
quickly. “We are bound to fall. With that 
open,” and he turned his blanched face upward 
toward the already flabby bag, “we can’t hold 
out. Start the engine,” he shouted. 

Alan did not hesitate. He did not understand, 
but he acted. Then he understood. While he 
flew to the task Ned was busy behind him. The 
Cibola^ after a little spring upward, was settling 
again. But now it was with an easy, almost im- 
perceptible drift. The engine responded to the 
188 


The Derelict 


189 


crank and spark. Alan turned quickly. A great 
bundle had just disappeared over the bridge net- 
ting above. The prized Aztec mummy was 
hurtling toward the waves of the Pacific and 
eternal oblivion. 

“Head for the wreck,” ordered Ned sharply. 

Alan sprang to the wheel again and threw on 
the clutch. As the propeller responded the prow 
of the dirigible lifted itself slightly and he could 
feel the Cibola leap forward with the wind. He 
also knew that the car was dropping lower each 
moment. Then there was another slight rebound. 
Ned had thrown the ammunition and supply 
chest through the hole in the floor — extra in- 
candescent bulbs, cartridges, revolvers, the cam- 
era and like supplies had followed the mummy 
into the sea. 

“The anchor must catch in the mast shrouds,” 
panted Ned. “Head for them and I’ll keep her 
afloat.” 

While Alan, his hands gripping the steering 
wheel, bent to this effort, he could hear Ned on 
the deck above. Despite the pull of the now 
swiftly flying propeller, the Cibola was settling 
fast. The fall and the onward flight of the bal- 
loon brought the wreck rapidly nearer. But the 
waves beneath seemed to be racing upward to 
meet them. Then there was another rebound. 


190 The Airship Boys 

The metal balloonet blower had been cast over- 
board. 

The wreck now loomed big before them, per- 
haps a mile ahead, low in the water and rising 
and falling in the roll of the sea. 

‘‘The tool chest!” shouted Alan. 

“Not yet,” called Ned, as he dropped into the 
cabin and threw open the trap door in the floor. 
With desperate speed, taking advantage of their 
last respite, he dropped the twenty-five-foot rope 
ladder in place, snapped the suspended anchor 
onto the end of the three hundred- foot coiled up 
drag rope and swiftly slid the rope to its length 
beneath the car. 

“The tool chest!” shouted Alan again. “Or 
we can’t make it.” 

With a swift glance over Alan’s shoulder Ned 
saw the wreck rise before them, not a thousand 
yards away. 

“Keep her to it,” he shouted in Alan’s ear. 
“You’ll do it.” 

At that instant it seemed as if the Cibola might 
reach the wreck on the angle of its fall, and hope 
sprang up in each boy’s heart. The next moment 
this was dashed — the buoyancy gained by the loss 
of the blower was short lived. Again they were 
sinking rapidly. 


The Derelict 


191 


“Why don’t you drop the tool chest?” pleaded 
Alan again in despair. 

“Because,” exclaimed Ned stubbornly, “you 
can’t make a boat with your hands.” 

“The box itself!” cried Alan. 

Ned understood. With the energy born of 
necessity the tools were tumbled onto the floor 
and just as the anchor touched the water thfe iron- 
bound box was hurled through the breach in the 
bottom of the cabin. The craft sprang upward. 
But the rise was feeble. The forward pull of the 
engine alone seemed to be giving life to the bal- 
loon. Before the car began to sink again Ned 
made the quick calculation that one more lift in 
the air would probably carry them over the wreck. 
But that lift meant either water, gasoline or food. 
And any one of these might mean their future 
salvation. Small articles did not count. The 
sagging, flapping bag told that the end was near. 

One thing only remained. Ned was hastily re- 
moving his shoes. Alan saw and started to leave 
the wheel. 

“Stick to her — it’s our salvation,” exclaimed 
Ned. “Be game. We’ve got to save this car.” 

“What are you doing?” cried Alan as Ned 
shot out of his coat, trousers and shirt. 

“Keep your nerve,” answered Ned trying to 


192 The Airship Boys 

smile. “You only need one more lift. I’ll give 
it to you.” 

“Stop,” entreated Alan, as he saw his chum 
spring through the trap door and grasp the sway- 
ing rope ladder. 

“If you don’t bring her over the wreck we’re 
both lost,” came the firm answer from below. 

Alan turned again to the forward window in 
anguish. The low hulk of the wreck rolled be- 
fore him about five hundred yards ahead. But 
the bow of the Cibola seemed ready to plunge 
into the white topped waves now not over forty 
feet beneath. The spinning propeller fairly 
groaned at its task, but the drifting fall showed 
the certain end. Left to its own power, in another 
moment the Cibola must plunge into the sea a 
tangled mass of car, bag and cordage. 

There was a splash below. The swinging lad- 
der with Ned on the bottom rung had pounded 
against a wave. 

“Stick to her, Alan!” 

The white- faced boy at the wheel heard the 
words from below as if in a dream and then — 
the wobbling car sprang into the air once more 
— the last lift. 

Ned had dropped into the sea. 

The Cibola made its last bound. Alan turned 
cold as ice. Then desperation came to his aid* 


The Derelict 


193 


He must save the car to save Ned. With one 
hand on the rudder wheel and the other on the 
aeroplanes he made his calculations. There was 
not even time to look for the nervy boy who had 
so gamely risked his life. 

Although four or five hundred feet in the air 
the Cibola seemed now sustained more by the 
pull of its motive power than the gas in the al- 
most collapsed bag. Before the bound upward 
came to an end Alan threw the aeroplanes down 
and the car dipped to its last fall. Nothing now 
could change its course. Less than five hundred 
feet ahead lay the wreck. The final moment had 
come. With a quick motion he threw off the pro- 
peller clutch and sprang through the trap door. 

The wreck seemed almost beneath him. As 
Ned had, before him, he made his way quickly 
down the ladder. The water-logged hulk rose 
on the swell and seemed about to pass beneath 
him. The balloon, the last of its power gone, 
rolled heavily forward, held back only by the 
long drag rope now drawing slowly over the rail 
of the vessel. 

Throwing himself backward Alan caught the 
taut drag rope, pulled the car to it and then, twist- 
ing himself about the line, released his hold on 
the ladder and shot like a weight to the lumber- 
strewn deck of the wreck beneath. 


194 


The Airship Boys 


There was one slight rebound of the balloon as 
his feet struck the lumber. Bracing himself and 
with no consciousness of his blistered hands, Alan 
drew the Cibola, hand over hand, swiftly to the 
wave-washed deck. For a moment only he held 
to the framework of the car and then, as the long 
bag careened on its side, he knew that the Cibola's 
voyage was done. 

Alan rushed to the mainmast shrouds on the 
windward side of the vessel. The black head of 
Ned was coming toward the wreck like the oily 
back of a porpoise. In a few minutes two eager 
hands grasped two tired, wet ones, and Ned was 
drawn on board the wreck, little the worse for his 
plunge. As the panting swimmer got his breath, 
he exclaimed: 

“Who has the rabbit foot, old man?” 

Alan, although happy enough to have Ned 
safely with him again, was in no condition for 
joking. He could only glance about with alarm. 

“It’s almost under water,” he exclaimed, notic- 
ing the condition of the wreck. 

Ned also looked around. “I guess we’ll float 
awhile yet — been floating some time, I reckon.” 

“Come,” suggested Alan, “get your clothes 
on.” Then suddenly throwing his arm about his 
chum, he added: “You’re the only boy in the 
world who would have done what you did.” 


The Derelict 


195 


Ned changed the subject at once. 

‘‘Afloat on a derelict!” he shouted. “Wrecked 
at sea, really and truly. Do you know,” he 
added with mock seriousness, “that, next to find- 
ing buried treasure, this is a regular hummer. 
It’s going to be the event of our lives.” 

“If we don’t drown,” interrupted Alan very 
soberly. 

“Drown?” exclaimed Ned, as he began to put 
on his clothes. “I should say not. I tell you,” 
he added with spirits bordering on gaiety, “we 
have a rabbit foot somewhere.” 

Alan grunted his disapproval of his chum’s 
levity and then the boys were ready to look about. 
The wreck, her decks almost flush with the water, 
was wallowing heavily in the trough of the sea. 
What had been an immense deck-load of milled 
lumber had, in the main, been torn from its pro- 
tecting chains and washed overboard. One tier 
of heavy pine boards yet held in place just for- 
ward of the mizzenmast. On this rested the car of 
the balloon, one end extending forward over the 
wave-washed deck and the other tilted slightly on 
the rail of the poop deck aft. 

“What do you make of her?” Alan asked at 
last. 

“She’s the Olivette of San Francisco,” Ned 
answered. “I suspect she was bound south. The 


196 


The Airship Boys 


crew must have abandoned her in the blow last 
night — probably rescued by a passing steamer/’ 

In time they found that the vessel, a square- 
rigged bark, had sailed from Portland, bound 
for Guaymas in Mexico. What was left of her 
cargo on the deck indicated a hold full of the 
same material. This, although the water poured 
from the hawse pipes and scuppers with each roll 
of the wreck, accounted for the derelict’s uncer- 
tain buoyancy. 

Of the bark’s three masts, the foremast had 
gone by the board, leaving a ragged stump about 
ten feet high. The main and mizzenmasts stood, 
their topmasts snapped off short at the mast- 
heads. The deck rails had been swept away in 
long sections by the loose lumber, only that for- 
ward of the foremast being left intact. The wire 
stays and rigging of the bowsprit and jibboom 
streamed out at the sides of the vessel, scraps of 
jibs and staysails yet clinging to the halyards. 

“She was carrying sail up to the moment the 
hurricane struck her,” exclaimed Ned, pointing 
to the mainsail flapping loosely from the broken 
yard. The forward deck had been swept clear 
of every movable object. Nothing but the cap- 
stan and anchor were left in place. After esti- 
mating the length of the bark at something less 
than two hundred feet and her register at about 


The Derelict 


197 


seven hundred tons, the castaways made haste to 
examine the cabin on the deck astern. 

Alan began to show an interest in the wreck. 
This part of the vessel was a reminder of the cap- 
tain’s quarters as they existed on old-fashioned 
full-rigged ships. Reaching from abaft the 
mizzenmast, and separated from it by a now 
broken and torn rail, a slightly elevated poop 
deck, ascended by two steps, rounded out the 
vessel aft. On this and extending to the wheel 
were the captain’s cabin and the cook’s galley. 
The skipper’s cabin came first and it was this that 
made the boys almost forget their trying adven- 
tures and peril. The front of it, over-looking 
the forward decks, was of windows set in a semi- 
circle like a pilot house. Into this the storm had 
not penetrated and Ned threw himself on the half 
circular couch under the square ports with an ex- 
clamation of joy. 

“What more do you want?” he cried in sudden 
exuberance. “A dry bunk, a ship to command 
and — ” he sprang up and started astern — “some- 
thing left in the kitchen, I hope.” 

Nor was he disappointed. Although all was 
confusion there, Ned and Alan in a few minutes 
found flour, potatoes, salt meat, the usual minor 
pantry supplies, and, what was yet better, the butt 
half full of fresh water. 


198 


The Airship Boys 


“That reminds me,” interrupted Alan, “I’m 
hungry. We haven’t eaten for fifteen hours.” 

“I want sleep more than breakfast,” replied 
Ned. “But I’ll go you.” 

The boys made a hearty breakfast on the stores 
yet remaining in the balloon. When they had 
finished, the wind had settled into a steady breeze, 
the sun was high in a cloudless sky of blue and 
the storm-crowned swells of the sea were fast dis- 
appearing in the long, steady rolls of the blue- 
green Pacific. 

“Now,” exclaimed Ned, punching Alan play- 
fully in the ribs, “you can do what you like. I’m 
going to turn in and sleep until I’m soaked full 
of it.” 

Ten minutes later both boys were far from 
thoughts of storm or wreck. 


CHAPTER XVIII. 


A DISH OF LOBSCOUSE 

When Alan half opened his sleepy eyes, about 
four o’clock in the afternoon, he could almost 
imagine himself lying under the old orchard trees 
on his uncle’s farm at home. There was a sum- 
mer softness in the air; there was a dreamy, gentle 
heave to the submerged bark, and a glance 
through the open port near-by showed a blue sky 
with fleecy, soft clouds almost unstirred by the 
wind. 

The sound of distant droning came to him like 
the hum of bees. Then he knew that it was some 
one singing and he realized at the same time that 
Ned was no longer by his side. Arousing him- 
self he listened. 

“Oh! my name is Captain Kidd, 

As I sailed. 

As I sailed. 

Oh! my name is Captain Kidd, 

As I sailed; 

Oh! my name is Captain Kidd, 

And God’s laws I did forbid 
And right wickedly I did 
As I sailed.” 

199 


200 


The Airship Boys 


Alan smiled. How often on long winter 
nights, when neither he nor Ned had even hopes 
of seeing the ocean, had he heard his adventure- 
loving and romantic minded chum hum that old 
buccaneer chanty! When they were not figuring 
on balloons and aeroplanes it was to the stories of 
the real adventurers of history that the two boys 
loved to turn. And among these no tales had 
interested them more than the annals of the bold 
navigators of the great South Sea on the bosom 
of which they had now been dropped from the 
clouds. 

Then came another air : 

“There’s pearls and gold 
And wealth untold — 

There’s ease for all 
Where the South Seas fall.” 

The smile that had been growing on Alan’s 
face broadened into a laugh. Springing from his 
bunk he hurried to the deck. There his laugh broke 
into a roar. High on the cross trees of the main- 
mast sat Ned, yelling his songs across the end- 
less Pacific and costumed like a comic opera 
pirate. On his head was a dull red handkerchief, 
filched no doubt from some abandoned ditty bag; 
his pajama shirt was turned low at the neck in 
approved man o’ war style and his swinging bare 
feet protruded through the rolled up legs of his 


A Dish of Lobscouse 


201 


light weight garments. Just above him, on the 
stump of the mast, fluttered the United States 
colors reversed. It was plain that Ned, arising 
ahead of Alan, had made it his first task to raise 
this flag of distress. 

“Where the South Seas fall 
There is ease for all.” 

The resonant, happy voice of Ned rang out 
again. 

“Hey, there,” exclaimed Alan. “I thought 
you were so anxious to get some sleep?” 

Ned stopped short in his song and then, a little 
sheepishly and as if he had been caught stealing 
jam, slid quickly to the deck. 

“How long have you been up and what are 
you doing?” continued his chum, laughing again 
at the lad’s theatrical make-up. 

Ned took a hitch in his trousers and, assuming 
the role of a sailor, replied: 

“IVe been up an hour or so, snooping around.” 
Then twisting his face into a humorous expres- 
sion he added: “Avast there, my hearty. You 
see it was this away: a seein’ as how we had scarce 
a shot left in our locker, as ye might say, and 
af eared that she might come on to blow afore 
mornin’ broke, I jist made free to take a turn with 
this ’ere flag in the way o’ a signal.” 

“Couldn’t you get in something about a ‘slant 


202 


The Airship Boys 


o’ wind/ or ‘making an offing’?” interrupted 
Alan, amused. “Both are old favorites of yours.” 

“I’ll get them all in, never you fear,” re- 
sponded Ned cheerily. “But say, Alan,” — and 
happiness broke out in every line of his counte- 
nance — “isn’t it great! I never imagined it would 
be half so pleasant to be lost at sea.” 

“Pleasant?” said Alan. “How do you make 
that out? What is to happen if we are not picked 
up in a day or so?” 

“Isn’t the cabin comfortable, and haven’t we 
food and a stove and water?” 

“But what about our friends waiting for us 
and the folks at home?” 

Ned sobered. “That is bad,” he said slowly. 
“But think what might have happened.” 

“And what if our wreck goes to pieces? They 
always do, you know, in sea stories.” 

“That’s easy,” replied Ned falling into his 
natural enthusiasm again. “We’ll escape on our 
raft.” 

“Now, you’re talking,” interrupted Alan. 
“We must make a raft. All we need is nails. We 
have the timber and the tools and stuff for a sail 
— why don’t we rig up a sail on the wreck?” he 
added quickly. “There is the balloon bag!” 

“It would help,” answered Ned. “But not 
much — the rudder’s gone.” 


A Dish of Lobscouse 


208 


“Where do you think we are?” exclaimed Alan 
after taking a new look at the wide horizon. 

Ned shook his head. “Off the coast of Lower 
California. How far off I haven’t any idea. But 
we ought to be in the track of coast steamers.” 

Alan was looking over the tier of timber be- 
neath his feet. 

“I’m ready to start work on a raft,” he ex- 
claimed suddenly. 

“Not today, mate,” responded Ned. “I can’t 
see any need to rush matters. Let’s lark it a lit- 
tle while we can, my bucko. We’ll just stow this 
’ere balloon bag safe and snug and make our sup- 
plies shipshape and then I vote to get busy on 
that galley back there and boil potatoes and bake 
biscuits and fry meat!” 

“I suppose one might as well,” replied Alan 
slowly. “But I thought shipwrecked people lived 
on hardtack and water!” 

“That’s in the stories,” answered Ned. “This 
is the real thing.” 

“Say,” exclaimed Alan, as Ned hastened to the 
cabin deck. “What do you suppose Bob Russell 
would have said to this?” 

Ned slapped his leg. “Isn’t it a shame?” he 
exclaimed. “He certainly would have enjoyed 
it.” 

Alan shook his head. “Ned,” he replied, catch- 


204 


The Airship Boys 


ing his chum by the shoulders, “you ought to be 
ashamed of yourself. You are beginning to 
make me think we’ve been downright lucky. And 
just when I know we ought to be scared to 
pieces.” 

“Make tomorrow your worry day,” shouted the 
irrepressible Ned. “Avast and belay! ‘Oh! my 
name is Captain Kidd, as I sailed, as I sailed.’ ” 

And, although Alan was convinced that they 
were wasting valuable time, both boys were soon 
busy in the mussed-up galley. The crew of the 
Olivette had apparently been rescued suddenly, 
for the pantry had been left fairly well stocked. 
After things had been put in something like order 
and a fire had been made in the range, Ned volun- 
teered to become cook. 

“If you are so anxious about starting a raft,” 
suggested Ned, with a pecuhar smile, “you can 
begin a search for nails. I’ll cook the supper. 
But don’t bother me while I’m at it,” he added, 
abstractedly casting his eyes longingly at the pan- 
try shelves. “I’ll call you when it’s ready.” 

This suited Alan. For over an hour neither 
boy molested the other. Alan searched the wreck 
for nails without success, and then busied himself 
laying out timber and collecting bits of cordage. 
About six o’clock there was a loud banging on an 
empty stew-pan and Ned, red of face and redo- 


A Dish of Lobscouse 


205 


lent of the kitchen, with the odor of onions pre- 
dominating, announced supper. There was a 
puzzled look on the cook’s face as he led the in- 
terrupted raft designer into the captain’s room. 

“There she is,” exclaimed Ned, with a little 
doubt in his voice, but a brave show of confidence. 

In the middle of the table was a meat dish piled 
high with a dark pasty mess. 

“What’s this?” sniffed Alan, as the odor of 
scorched flour and onions greeted his nostrils. 

“What is it?” snapped Ned scornfully. “Why, 
it’s a regular sea dish. It’s lobscouse.” 

“Lobscouse?” exclaimed Alan. “And what’s 
‘lobscouse’ ?” 

“Why, it’s what old sea dogs eat. It’s what 
they like above anything else. It beats steak. 
It’s a wholesome, filling sea dish.” 

“Well, it certainly looks as if it would be fill- 
ing,” said Alan, trying to suppress a smile. 
“Let’s have a sample.” 

Ned smacked a big spoon into the steaming 
mess and ladled a gigantic portion onto Alan’s 
plate. Alan took a bit on his fork. Ned stopped 
him. 

“You eat it with a spoon,” he explained a lit- 
tle nervously. 

“A spoon,” cried Alan. “That? Why, you 
(Can almost cut it.” 


206 


The Airship Boys 


“Yes, I got it a little too thick,” added Ned. 
“But it’s really a soup.” 

“All right,” said Alan, exchanging his fork 
for a spoon. “Here goes!” 

As if he were taking medicine, Alan lifted a 
spoonful to his mouth. Then his face grew red. 

“It’s burned,” he sputtered. 

“Burned?” repeated Ned in a disappointed 
tone. 

“Yes, haven’t you tasted it?” 

“Not yet,” answered Ned, a little guiltily. 
“But maybe that’s the bottom. Try the top.” 

Plunging his cook spoon again into the midst 
of the dish he ladled a second helping into an- 
other plate. 

“Taste it yourself!” exclaimed Alan, shoving 
the plate toward Ned. The latter slowly com- 
plied. His face grew redder as he did so. 

“It is a little scorched,” he said finally. 

Alan took another small spoonful. 

“That’s the best thing about it,” he said at last. 
“It disguises the taste.” 

Ned laughed outright. 

“Maybe I didn’t get it quite right,” he ex- 
plained. “I couldn’t quite remember.” 

“Well,” said Alan, “what’s in it?” 

“What’s in it?” repeated Ned evasively. 

“Yes. If I’m to eat it I want to know.” 


A Dish of Lobscouse 207 

‘‘I don’t remember everything,” confessed 
Ned. 

Alan was picking over the dish with the point 
of his spoon. “Did you invent it?” he asked, 
looking up suddenly. “I thought we were going 
to have potatoes and pork for supper.” 

“They’re in it — I remember them,” acknowl- 
edged Ned. 

“I can smell onions. There’s no question 
about them,” added Alan. 

“And the succotash,” added Ned. “A whole 
can.” 

“And this?” laughed Alan. “It looks like circus 
bill paste.” 

“Maybe I got in too much flour,” suggested 
Ned. “But sailors aren’t as finicky as you are.” 

“I’m not finicky. But if that’s ‘lobscouse’ you 
can strike it off my bill of fare.” 

“And you won’t eat it?” asked Ned persuasive- 

ly- 

“I will not!” 

“Well,” said the cook slowly, “I suppose lob- 
scouse may be all right as a soup, but I don’t care 
for it myself as an entree.” 

Slowly rising from the table Ned took the bowl 
of legendary sea food, walked out of the cabin 
to the deck rail and hurled the odoriferous lob- 
scouse into the sea. 


208 The Airship Boys 

“Food for the whales/’ exclaimed Ned, half 
solemnly. 

“Hardly,” said Alan, who was now shaking 
with laughter. “Whales have no teeth.” 

“That’s the last straw,” shouted Ned, banging 
the spoon on the empty pan. “You can cook 
your own supper.” 

Just as night fell supper number two was 
served. But it included no nautical dishes. 
Alan, after discovering a few eggs, showed some 
skill in making a hght batter and frying therein 
some thin slices of salt pork. Ned, capitulating, 
superintended the potatoes, to which he gave a 
crisp brownness that compensated for the fiasco 
of the lobscouse. With biscuits, tea, and a tin of 
preserved peaches for dessert, the boys ate them- 
selves into forgetfulness of supper number one. 

“And now,” began Alan at last, when the cabin 
lantern began to throw long shadows through 
the darkening room, “I suppose you’re only sorry 
that this isn’t a ‘long, low, rakish craft’ with a 
black flag floating above?” 

“Ajren’t you?” laughed Ned. “Tonight, at 
least ? Remember : 

“ ‘There’s pearls and gold. 

And wealth untold ; 

There’s ease for all 
Where the South Seas fall.’ ” 


A Dish of Lobscouse 


209 


“Not for me,” replied Alan vigorously. “En- 
joy it all you can, but all I see is an old scow 
ready to collapse, carrying two rattle-brained 
boys much too far from land.” 

“Right on the track of the raciest buccaneers 
the world has ever known,” laughed Ned. “Alan,” 
he added, slapping his chum on the back, “for 
your years you’re the best mathematician I ever 
knew — and the worst poet.” 


CHAPTER XIX 

THE CIBOLA II 

When Alan awoke the next morning he found 
that Ned had already risen. Peering hastily 
out of the window he detected his chum, fully 
dressed, leaning against the mainmast and gazing 
thoughtfully at the car of the Cibola, 

‘‘Still dreaming?” called Alan. 

“Yes,” came the answer. “Still dreaming.” 

In a few minutes Alan joined Ned. 

“How about some breakfast and tackling the 
raft?” he began. 

“Breakfast is all right,” answered Ned slowly. 
“But IVe rather put the raft out of my mind.” 

“Perhaps you’re thinking of walking?” 

“No. I’ve been thinking of flying.” 

“Flying? Wake up! It’s breakfast time.” 

Ned laughed, and, saying no more, made his 
way aft. At the galley Alan suddenly came to a 
stop. 

“What is this about flying?” he exclaimed as if 
he had just concluded that the question might be 
worth asking. 

“That’s where dreaming comes in,” said Ned, 
laughing softly. “I started romancing yester- 
- 210 


The Cibola II 


211 


day, and last night, after we turned in, I couldn’t 
stop. I had a big dream — but I was awake. We 
turned the Cibola into a flying machine.” 

“Are you joking?” 

“Never more serious in my life. Look” — Ned 
grasped Alan with eagerness and drew him back 
toward the long skeleton-like balloon car. “I 
can’t think of a thing needed in an airship that 
we can’t get out of that car in some form or other ; 
propeller, engine, cloth for guides, frame — ” 

“An aeroplane!” exclaimed Alan. 

“Why not?” responded Ned. 

“And fly ashore?” added Alan with alarm in 
his voice. 

“Well,” answered Ned slowly, “if she flew at 
all I think she’d make the land. We could try 
it.” 

Alan walked away and stood gazing silently 
into the blue east for some time. 

“And you really think it can be made?” he said 
at last, turning around. 

“Look for yourself,” answered Ned, pointing 
toward the car. 

“And you’d risk your life in it?” 

“If it didn’t go up we’d be right here in the 
water.” 

Alan took another moment for deep thought. 
Then he shook his head. 


212 


The Airship Boys 


“Let’s build the raft,” he said at last. 

“Surely,” answered Ned with assurance. “And 
an airship, too. You make the raft and I’ll work 
out an aeroplane.” 

“In the meantime,” interrupted AJan, “if we 
happen to fall in with a passing vessel, I suppose 
you’ll feel disappointed.” 

Ned’s face was a puzzle. “No,” he answered, 
“but if it’s convenient, I certainly should like to 
try a flight before being rescued.” 

Breakfast that morning was postponed until 
10 o’clock. Carried away at last by Ned’s enthu- 
siasm, Alan sat for over two hours listening to his 
explanation of the Cibola s possibihties. Long 
before the daring Ned was through outlining 
what he conceived might be done, Alan was con- 
vinced that it was at least worth trying. What 
at first seemed a hare-brained dream changed into 
a practicable plan so quickly that he temporarily 
postponed the beginning of the raft. 

“I’ll help you today,” conceded Alan finally, as 
the castaways sat down to an omelet and some 
coffee, “but when you have a start I’m going to 
make a raft to pick you up.” 

Ned’s first ideas were brilliant, but they were 
generalities. As soon as breakfast was over he 
made another long survey of the car and then the 
boys retired to the captain’s cabin, cleared the 


The Cibola II 


213 


table, and with scraps of paper and stubs of pen- 
cils went to work. The size of every timber, the 
location of every brace and the character of every 
bolt, nut, screw and bit of machinery in the Cibola 
was as well known to each boy as the contents 
of his pockets. The car was made up of seven 
sections. The center one, in which the engine 
was placed, and which served as a cabin, was 6.12 
feet long and 6 feet high — smaller than the 
others, for the sake of rigidity. One end of this 
section had a raised hood two feet in height which 
served as a pilot lookout. The entire length of 
the car was 54.12 feet. Therefore, the other six 
sections were each 8 feet long. The height of 
these sections varied from 6 feet at the cabin sec- 
tion to 5 feet at the extreme ends. 

The body of the aeroplane was to consist of the 
car as it stood with the end sections cut off. The 
top frames of the end sections were to be utilized 
to make the superimposed horizontal planes car- 
ried in front of the airship to guide and balance 
it. Here the first hitch was encountered. The 
rear of these planes, on a 38.12 foot aeroplane 
would have to be nearly 10 feet from the car 
(Alan calculated 9.8 feet) and they would have 
to be directly and absolutely controllable from the 
car. 

The absence of light timber suitable for a 


214 


The Airship Boys 


framework to carry these guides was met by a 
plan to use the side aeroplane guides. And this 
steering apparatus also furnished a control for the 
superimposed planes. Each arm of the aeroplane 
guides was 10 feet long and was made of a long 
loop of vanadium steel, braced transversely, and 
covered with vulcanized silk. These arms, bolted 
to a shaft which ran through the cabin, were 
moved up or down by means of a lever. This 
shaft was at once selected as the basis for the new 
forward guide of the airship, as the long loops, 
unbolted, could easily be turned into a truss to 
hold the guide. 

The Pacific continued beautifully calm. At 
noon so interested were the boys in their work that 
they abandoned luncheon. Their plans were made. 
The preliminary work was the disconnecting of 
the support ropes, the removal of the rudder, 
aeroplanes and propeller; the stowing away of 
the Cibola's bag, instruments, supplies and — most 
important of all — the extra gasoline, and finally 
the disconnecting of the engine, dynamo, cooling 
tubes and shafting. 

The plan for getting the proposed car into 
flight was perhaps the most ingenious of the ideas 
discovered. 

‘T couldn’t make any headway until I figured 
that out,” explained Ned, when they began their 


The Cibola II 


215 


figuring. ‘‘And I think my suggestion will do 
the business. Our engine is a powerful one and 
our propeller has demonstrated that it can push 
quite a load. But both of them can’t lift us. We’ve 
got to have a running start, so as to sail like a 
bird. We can’t get much of a run at the best, 
but with our engine, especially if we could get a 
bit of breeze against us, I think my plan will work 
out.” 

The scheme was to build the aeroplane on the 
rails just forward of the foremast. The deck 
here was a trifle over thirty feet wide. All for- 
ward to the bowsprit was clear, the capstan stand- 
ing just below the level of the rails. A block and 
tackle were to be rigged on the bowsprit as far 
out as the strain would permit and, when the car 
was ready, the anchor was to be drawn around the 
bow with the aid of the capstan, raised to the 
block and held there with a slip knot. From each 
end of the car ropes were to extend to a single 
line which passed over a simple pulley next to the 
anchor blocks. The young aeronauts had already 
discovered a can of calking grease in the galley. 
With a good coat of this on the smooth rails, the 
heavy weight, when the slip knot holding the an- 
chor was released, would plunge into the sea and 
the aeroplane would shoot forward like a bird. 

“There’s nearly forty feet of clear track there,” 


216 


The Airship Boys 


explained Ned, “and, with our propeller going at 
top speed, if we don’t get a fine start it will be 
for some other reason.” 

“Yes,” interrupted Alan a little dubiously, 
“that may start us. But how are you going to 
get loose when we’ve gone the forty feet?” 

“Simple,” exclaimed Ned. “You’ll be sitting 
in the car with the ends of the guide ropes in your 
grip. The instant we get free of the rails you’ll 
let go. The loose ends will fiy around the up- 
rights behind which they have been passed and 
we’ll be off.” 

When the sun was just overhead the work of 
converting the balloon into an aeroplane began. 
When the car had been stripped of its contents 
and the cabin covering had been removed the 
long skeleton of wood and wire was light enough 
for the boys to move it to its new position, and it 
was soon stretching bridge-hke from rail to rail. 
This portion of the deck was free of timber and 
nearly always awash with the spray of gently 
breaking waves. But, barefooted and stripped 
to their undershirts, the castaways made light of 
such matters. 

As the foundation of their new machine settled 
snugly into place it was made fast with a turn of 
some of the cordage Alan had collected, and the 
boys paused for breath. Ned’s face was aglow 


The Cibola 11 


217 

with enthusiasm. Suddenly he ran forward to 
the bowsprit, jumped on it and removing his cap 
repeated, dramatically : 

‘‘Oh! the palms grow high in i¥ves. 

And fruits, they shine like gold; 

And the colibris and parrots 
They were gorgeous to behold.” 

“What’s ‘colibris’?” sniffed Alan. 

“I don’t know, but it sounds well,” laughed 
Ned. 

“And ‘Aves’?” 

“Oh,” answered Ned, “it’s somewhere in the 
land to be ; where dreams come true, I guess.” 

“That shows your ignorance,” retorted Alan 
quickly. “It’s an island in the West Indies. And 
if you think we are drifting there you’re mis- 
taken.” 

“But we’re not going to drift,” shouted Ned, 
splashing his feet in the cooling salt spray. 
“We’re going to fly.” 

Alan turned away. “I’ll help build an aero- 
plane,” he said sharply, “if you’ll get to work and 
quit spouting about colibris and parrots and 
palms. You’d better be humping yourself about 
bolts and monkey wrenches.” 

“Well, our first ‘hump’,” answered Ned, ap- 
parently undisturbed by Alan’s admonition, “will 


^18 


The Airship Boys 


be to ‘hump’ the top and bottom of our aeroplane 
skeleton. Of course well use silk strips from the 
balloon bag to cover our big planes, but since they 
can’t be flat we’ll have to arch each surface. As 
the curve will be one in fourteen the height of our 
arch will be just short of seven inches.” 

That was the first real work, and, in the end, 
the most difficult task the boys had set themselves. 
If there were any tools on the Olivette^ they were 
to be found in the hold, and since the water was 
flush with the deck no investigation was possible 
there. From the deck timber strips might easily 
have been made with a rip saw, but with the small 
cross-cut saw in Ned’s tool collection this was im- 
practicable. An experiment was made with the 
“beading” from the aft cabin. But it was old 
and where it wasn’t brittle it was rotten. After 
several hours of patient search and thought the 
idea of the curved surfaces had to be abandoned. 

“We’ll simply elevate the center and run the 
cloth to the frame on an angle,” said Ned at last. 
“I’ve never heard of it being done, but it may 
work.” 

By night this part of the work was done. Light 
seven-inch blocks of pine were sawed from the 
wreck’s cargo and one of these was nailed to the 
center of each cross-piece of the car. The soft 
copper wire that had been treasured so carefully 


The Cibola II 


219 


now came into use. Making fast the wire on one 
of the end bottom cross-pieces the boys carried it 
to the piece above, passed it over the block and so 
to the other end of the car, where, after they had 
made it taut they fastened it again to the bottom 
of the framework. A similar wire was run along 
over blocks on the bottom cross-pieces except at 
the middle section, where it was dropped down 
under the framework to escape the engine room. 

Xed was too tired to do much skylarking that 
night. They had a good supper of pancakes, 
syrup, stewed evaporated fruit and tea. After 
supper a little breeze sprang up and when it was 
wholly dark the boys were glad enough to light 
the big lamp and drowsily seek the warmth of the 
cabin. Ned had got out a pile of the fine Italian 
hemp cords that had been used to attach the 
Cibola's bag to the car, and the boys were soon 
busy unraveling strands. The strings thus ob- 
tained were to be used in attaching the cloth to the 
top and bottom of the aeroplane. 

About ten o’clock Ned threw down his work, 
caught up a soiled old chart of the Pacific — one 
of the Olivette's small supply — and spreading it 
out on the cabin table began to study it. Alan, 
arose and stood by him. 

“Are you going to break out again?” asked 
Alan. 


220 


The Airship Boys 


“I’m looking for Juan Fernandez Island,’’ an- 
swered Ned demurely. 

“Now it’s Robinson Crusoe,” exclaimed Alan, 
“and caves! I’ll tell you what you do. If you’re 
tired enough to quit work, you go right over to 
that bunk and turn in and do what dreaming you 
have on hand while you’re asleep.” So saying, 
he took hold of the map as if to put it away. And 
then, forgetting himself, he looked at it a mo- 
ment, and spread it out once more on the table. 

“Say, Ned,” he exclaimed, “where do you 
reckon we are — on this chart, I mean?” 

Ned laughed. “Not near Robinson Crusoe’s 
island,” he answered; “but we can’t be far from 
here,” and he indicated a point almost west and 
a httle north of Point Natividad on the coast of 
lower California. “I don’t know how far at sea 
we are, but we are not moving very rapidly — per- 
haps we are a hundred and fifty miles from 
land.” 

Alan drew a straight line from Ned’s estimated 
point to the nearest land. It cut across Cerros 
Island, which lies at the head of Viscaino Bay. 

“If we could get that far — ” he began. 

“Why, we’d starve to death if the Indians 
didn’t make that unnecessary,” broke in Ned. 
“Do the job right while you’re at it.” 

He continued the line across the great penin- 


The Cibola II 


221 


sula and the wide gulf beyond and ended it at 
Guaymas in Mexico. 

“That’s the place to head for,” he added. 
“That means white people, hotels, telegraph and 
railroads.” 

Alan thought a long time and then moved his 
head as if in half protest. 

“There is a lot of water between here and 
there,” he said at last. 

For answer Ned walked to the chest beneath 
the cabin window and took out a cork hfe pre- 
server jacket. 

“There,” he said, laughing and laying it in 
Alan’s lap. “You can wear this. Now go to bed 
and forget your troubles.” 


CHAPTER XX 
NED Napier’s ingenuity 

At about three o’clock in the afternoon of the 
tenth day after the Cibola fell on the deck of the 
derelict Olivette^ Ned and Alan finished their 
great work. The Cibola II was ready for flight, 
or for an attempt at it. The great propeller had 
already been tested. At half revolution it shook 
the light silken-topped car and tugged at the stay 
ropes until the safety of the frame seemed endan- 
gered. 

The construction of the airship had been pro- 
longed because Ned, realizing the wisdom of 
Alan’s persistent argument, had finally suspend- 
ed the work long enough to lash together a raft. 
This they had begun on a day when clouds sud- 
denly appeared and thick weather indicated that 
the Pacific skies were not always blue. Loose 
bolts were not hard to find on the Olivette and 
with these and an auger two twelve-foot squares 
of milled pine were constructed. 

Clearing a space amidships one of these frames 
was laid on two two-inch boards to raise it above 
the deck, and then, four deep, the square was 
covered with long, smooth planks. When eight 
222 


223 


Ned Napier^ s Ingenuity 

inches of these had been stacked on the lower 
frame the other square was laid on top and then 
each stack of four boards was lashed fast to the 
upper and lower frames through spaces left for 
that purpose. 

To the center of the raft two chests from the 
cabin of the Olivette had also been made fast by 
ropes passed through their handles and between 
the open planks below. And at one end of these 
a water keg had been lashed. The tips of two 
broken spars, with plenty of cordage and a large 
section of the Cibola s bag, were also on the raft 
for use in raising a sail. One of the chests was 
set apart for clothing, blankets, instruments from 
the CihoWs cabin, candles, a lantern, charts, tools 
and such other articles as were available and 
might be needed. Into the second chest went 
such food supplies as were left in the Olivette's 
lazarette. These included a few potatoes, a fair 
lot of canned goods, a small cask of pork, and 
same bacon and flour. 

When the boys turned in at about eleven o’clock 
that night — and, as it happened, for the last time 
on the Olivette — the moon, which had shown so 
brilliantly each night, was low in the west and 
glowing faintly as if in a fog. Dark, thin clouds 
were breaking and forming quickly again and 
hurrying eastward. Little whitecaps were racing 


224 


The Airship Boys 


before a light wind and the long calm of the ocean 
had given way to short, sharp waves which 
pounded the side of the wreck like hammers. 
These indications were not assuring, but they 
were not particularly alarming, and the exhausted 
boys sought their bunks with no special apprehen- 
sion. 

The following morning, to their surprise and 
relief, brought a calm. But the sun was obscured 
and there was a hint of chill in the air. The light 
sea of the night before had gone down. 

‘‘Things don’t look good to me,” Alan sug- 
gested as he gazed over the long reach of gray 
water. Nor did they to Ned, who missed the in- 
spiring effect of the brilliant sunshine, and whose 
spirits were a little dampened at seeing the usu- 
ally clean cut horizon line lost in a haze of low 
lying clouds. 

“Cheer up!” he exclaimed with well assumed 
confidence, “your raft is all ready.” 

“And how about your aeroplane?” added Alan, 
looking at their realized dream with no little 
pride. “I’ll say this at least; I’m proud of its 
architect.” 

“And I’m proud of the architecture,” said Ned. 
“Not only because it looks pretty, but because it 
will fly/' 

“I’d like to have it down on the sand dunes of 


Ned Napier^s Ingenuity 


225 


Lake Michigan,” answered Alan. Then he 
looked away over the endless gray of the ocean. 
“But — ” and he shook his head. 

The roof and floor of the Cihola II rose in their 
thirty-eight-foot golden silk lengths like the low 
comb of a house. The coverings were not made 
fast in the evenest manner, but they were tight 
and had been made secure beneath a close twist 
of running cord. In front, the superimposed 
horizontal planes — for vertical guiding — stretch- 
ed out like the yellow beak of some long-necked 
bird. These were carried at the extremity of a 
truss made of the braced aeroplane frames. Two 
lengths of spruce from the abandoned sections 
braced these light extended arms. 

The lever by which the old aeroplane shaft had 
been controlled was yet in place by the vertical 
guides. It was now connected with the operating 
section of the airship, by means of a stiff stick of 
wood that had been sawed laboriously from deck 
planking. This was bolted to a short, improvised 
lever hinged to the front brace of the car. 

The construction of the front guide and the 
truss to carry it had not been difficult, the steel 
loops of the old aeroplane guides fltting into 
place almost as if they had been measured for it. 
But the two parallel planes in the rear had taxed 
Ned’s ingenuity. The result, however, though 


226 


The Airship Boys 


crude looking, was convincing testimony of the 
young aeronaut’s inventive resources. 

“You can’t do it,” Alan had insisted. “The 
propeller must go directly in the rear of the cen- 
ter of the car and the wheel has a twelve-foot 
revolution. Where are you going to fasten a 
frame to carry your two rudders? You can’t do 
it.” 

“But it must be done, ” answered Ned, “or we 
shan’t have a flying machine.” 

An evening of planning and an entire day of 
labor had been devoted to solving this riddle. It 
was plain that a bridge-like truss must extend 
from the main car. The upper arms of this, to 
reach around the space in which the propeller 
must revolve and extend eight feet in the rear, 
must be not less than nine feet ten inches long. 
After it had been almost decided that these could 
be secured only by laboriously sawing another 
two pieces from the two-inch green pine timbers 
of the cargo, Ned unexpectedly discovered the 
very material needed. 

Of the wrecked small boats still on the davits, 
one had been recently repaired. It was a sixteen- 
foot boat and two new cypress gunwales, two and 
a half by one and a half inches in size, were yet 
intact, attached to the bottomless shell. Almost 
two feet of one end of each of these was useless 


ISled Napier^ s Ingenuity 


227 


by reason of saw slits in it to permit of a curve 
along the boat’s bow; but when the gunwales 
were removed the boys had two curved pieces, 
sound and admirably suited to the purpose — 
much better than even straight pieces. 

One end of each of these was mortised to the 
upper rear frame of the big car three and one 
half feet outside the upright laterals of the mid- 
dle section. The abandoned sections of the car 
afforded eight pieces of spruce each eight feet 
long. Two were braced against the lower frame 
of the car, with their other ends fitting into slight 
notches half way out on the nine-foot arms. From 
the ends of the long arms the five-by-six-foot 
frame carrying the vertical rudders was suspend- 
ed. To secure rigidity two more eight-foot pieces 
of the old sections were extended from the bottom 
of the vertical rudder frame forward to the other 
eight-foot braces where they were made fast. 

The two vertical rudders were formed from the 
five-by-ten-foot rudder of the old Cibola. This 
silk-covered steel frame, cut in the middle, 
afforded two five-by-five-foot planes which were 
mounted four feet apart in a light frame six feet 
high and five feet wide. The ingenious truss 
holding this frame was not more novel than the 
contrivance to operate the rudders. 

Since the chain gear operating the propeller 


228 


The Airship Hoys 


was but four feet long it was necessary to keep 
the new shaft bearings for this wheel not over 
four feet above the engine base. This located the 
center of the propeller four feet above the lower 
framework of the car and dropped the ends of the 
propeller, when revolving, two feet beneath the 
car bottom. 

When this was discovered Alan was not a little 
concerned. 

'‘You can’t do that,” he argued. “The first 
time we come down we’ll tear the wheel to pieces.” 

Ned smiled. “That’s true,” he answered, “and 
it’s bad mechanics. We should have six feet of 
gear chain and the end of the propeller should 
turn fiush with the car bottom at least. But we 
haven’t the chain. We must be original. The 
wheel will go smash the first time we come down, 
but we are not coming down but once. And that 
is going to be on the land. When we get there 
our flying will be over.” 

This being Ned’s determination, he constructed 
the apparatus to move the vertical rudders to 
work around the propeller, instead of having it 
operate directly, as in the mechanism to throw the 
forward rudders. The eyelets that guided the 
rudder wires on the old Cibola were inserted at 
intervals along the rear truss braces and through 
these the steel rudder wires used on the balloon 


Ned Napier^ s Ingenuity 220 

were passed and made fast to the rudder wheel 
yet in place in the cabin. Light spruce pieces 
were attached to the faces of the vertical rudder 
planes with free ends extending about twelve 
inches toward the car. To these the rudder wire 
was made fast and in this manner a movement of 
the rudder wheel gave a corresponding motion 
to the planes behind. 

“The forward and aft rudders should work to- 
gether,” explained Ned with regret, “but, since 
we can’t have that, I’m sure we can work them 
separately. Anyway, there are to be two of us 
to try it, and that means some advantage.” 

“But,” he added with some pride, “that is only 
the new application of a common idea. Where 
we have really accomplished something is in our 
automatic compensating device. I think that is 
a discovery and I shall try to patent it when we 
get back home again.” 

“When we do!” exclaimed Alan, a little pessi- 
mistically looking over the sullen expanse of dark 
heaving water. 

“Cheer up!” broke in Ned. “This is the very 
thing that is going to take us hack.” 

The problem that Ned was attempting to solve 
was this : 

Nothing is so unstable as the atmosphere; air 
that often seems to be as calm as a mill pond, or 


230 


The Airship Boys 


winds that appear to be as steady and fixed as 
fiowing streams, are in reality often nothing more 
than invisible conflicts of twisting currents, eddy- 
ing whirls and corkscrewing billows. A bird in 
its flight constantly allows for variations in wind 
velocities by readjusting the tips of its wings. 
Should a sudden gust of wind turn the flying bird 
downward the wing tips immediately twist into 
a new angle. If the bird is falling to the right, 
the tip on that side flattens out at a greater angle 
and the tip on the left closes in on a sharper 
angle. 

“For which reason,” explained Ned, “we’ll 
never have flying machines that can be operated 
by those who are not trained aviators, until these 
readjustments are done automatically. And, as 
we are not Farmans or Wright Brothers we must 
make a self-acting apparatus.” 

Ned’s compensating planes or wing tips were 
made of one-half of the lower frame of each of 
the discarded end sections. These, covered with 
silk, were attached to each end of the “roof” of 
the aeroplane, by means of the hinges taken from 
the bridge and cabin trap doors. Allowing each 
wing tip to incline slightly downward Ned fixed 
the two planes in place with pieces of semi-circu- 
lar springs of steel wedged in between a cross arm 
of the tip and the cross brace on the end of the 


Ned Napier's Ingenuity 


231 


car. These springs were the halves of the hoop 
of five-eighths-inch steel to which the escape valve 
of the Cibola had been attached. 

After the springs had been made fast the wings 
responded to the slightest downward pressure, 
and then, the pressure removed, flew instantly 
back into place. Then came the devising of a 
method of operating the wings which, when 
worked out, was Ned’s patentable ‘‘automatic 
compensation balance for aeroplanes.” 

On the dirigible there had been a compensating 
balance consisting of a grooved track, a good deal 
like the rail of a traveling hay fork, on which a 
thirty-five pound weight could be moved forward 
or aft with light wires extending to pulleys at 
each end of the car and ending at the pilot plat- 
form in the cabin. This rail was now removed 
and a portion of it 6.12 feet long was attached 
immediately beneath the cabin floor. After each 
end of this section had been closed the thirty-five 
pound weight, its bearings having been carefully 
cleaned and then freely greased, was free to run 
back and forth as the car tipped to the right or 
left. The gravity weight was carefully adjusted 
in the center of the track, and cords were run 
from it to the far tips of the balancing planes. 

“Now,” explained Ned with the enthusiasm of 
an inventor, “we can go to sleep and the ‘compen- 


232 


The Airship Boys 


sator’ will do the rest. If we dip to the right the 
weight must slide to the right from gravity. And 
it can’t do it without pulling down the tip on the 
left. When we get on a level the weight must 
run back and the wing will fly back into place. 
How do you like it?” 

“Fine,” responded Alan. “But — if I ever go 
up in that thing — you can bet I’ll not take a 
chance on sleeping.” 


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CHAPTER XXI 

A STRANGE COLLISION. 

It was the night of October 26. In the cabin 
of the Olivette the swinging lamp was turned 
low, and Ned was asleep in his bunk. Behind the 
light and casting black grotesque shadows on the 
cabin wall, swung, as the derelict rolled, the 
strange sneering idol found on the Treasure 
Mesa. There it had been hanging for ten days, a 
constant reminder to the young adventurers of 
the other wonders taken from the khiva of the 
temple. 

“Ned!” 

The cabin door flew open and Alan, his coat 
collar turned up and his face damp from the spray 
of windless waves, sprang into the cabin. The 
ship clock on the wall pointed to twelve minutes 
after nine o’clock. 

“Ned,” shouted Alan again. “There’s a boat or 
something in the west.” 

That night, for the first time, the boys had de- 
cided to stand watches; and the first trick had 
fallen to Alan. All day there had been a pre- 
monition of something unusual. Dark clouds 
without wind; a long, heaving, greasy sea; a dim 
233 


234 


The Airship Boys 


sun sinking into a bricky west, all hinted of a 
storm. The raft, stocked with supplies, lay ready 
to float in case the Olivette should go to pieces. 

The Cibola II j complete in every detail, lay on 
the rails ready for launching. Its engine, with 
tanks full of gasoline, stood ready to start at any 
moment. Swaying on the bowsprit was the heavy 
anchor that was to shoot it forward and upward 
on its first flight. One thing was not aboard — the 
provisions. The conservative Alan insisted that 
they should be kept on the raft. On this a spar 
had already been raised, from the top of which 
hung a brightly burning lantern. 

“A boat?” queried Ned drowsily. Then, clad 
only in his pajamas, he hastened to the deck with 
Alan. 

‘T can’t make it out,” explained Alan excitedly. 
“But it was something rushing through the water 
not far away.” 

“Did it show a light?” Ned asked. 

“No. But it cut through the water like a steam- 
er bow and I heard an exhaust like steam blow- 
ing off.” 

“Strange,” commented Ned, puzzled. “Keep 
a sharp lookout.” 

While he hastened to get into his clothes he 
tried to imagine what the strange object might 
be. In eleven days they had not sighted a sail 


A Strange Collision 


235 


and only once had they made out the low-lying 
smoke of a steamer far to the east. 

Ned was just tying his last shoe when Alan’s 
sharp cry again rang out: 

“Plere it is! Quick!” 

Ned sprang forward, catching up his coat and 
cap, but before he could reach the door there was 
a crash; the light and the suspended idol swung 
forward violently and Ned, thrown from his feet, 
plunged against the cabin wall. With a cut in his 
forehead he scrambled to his feet. As he made 
his way blindly to the deck a thin sheet of water 
drenched his feet. 

“Hurry!” 

It was Alan’s alarmed voice. Turning in the 
direction of it Ned found his chum on his knees 
and hanging onto the poop deck rail just forward 
of the cabin. The derelict was rocking and 
trembling as from some terrific impact. The en- 
tire main deck was awash with tons of water. As 
Ned sprang forward he felt the water at his feet 
subside ; then, reaching Alan’s side, he found him 
drenched to the skin and trembling with alarm. 

“It hit us!” exclaimed Alan huskily. 

“What?” shouted Ned. There was no sign of 
anything in the black gloom and no sound but the 
groaning of the creaking Olivette and the hollow 
suck of receding water. 


236 


The Airship Boys 


Before either boy could speak again the vessel 
suddenly heaved as if a volcano had struck the 
wreck, and then careened violently. Ned ,and 
Alan were hurled flat on the deck. Then, with a 
terrific explosion, a geyser-like column of water 
arose from the side of the submerged bark. It 
fell in a sweeping deluge of spray, and the pros- 
trate boys hurled themselves to the rail to escape 
being carried overboard in the hot embrace of 
the heavy hquid. 

Clearing his face of the thick smother Ned 
grasped Alan’s shoulder. 

“A whale!” he shouted. “We’re done for!” 

As the Olivette feebly righted herself a new 
deluge of water rolled over the deck, and Ned 
and Alan sprang up in fresh alarm. The hght of 
their raft had risen quickly in the air, as if swung 
by some unseen and mysterious force, and then, 
with a long, sweeping motion, it and the raft had 
slid out to sea. The castaways, waist deep in 
water, rushed forward, but they were too late. 

The leviathan, head on, had plunged against 
the derelict amidships. For a moment the mon- 
ster had been held by the wreckage and then, 
spouting its life blood in the deluge that had 
almost drowned the two boys, it had torn itself 
loose. Through the gap it had made in the side 
of the wreck rolled a second wall of water. And 


A Strange Collision 


237 


on this, as it rushed back again into the sea, the 
carefully prepared raft, with all its equipment 
and its store of food, had disappeared in the re- 
ceding billows. 

Alan gave a cry of despair. 

“We are lost!” he exclaimed. “The wreck is 
sinking.” 

The hght on the raft reappeared on a swell a 
hundred yards away and then again disappeared. 

“We’ve got to swim for it,” Alan shouted as 
his eyes followed the fast disappearing beacon. 
“Come on — ^we can make it!” 

Ned caught Alan by both shoulders to restrain 
him. He was trembling with excitement himself, 
but he had not lost his head. Although the ava- 
lanche of water swept aboard by the whale had 
subsided, he knew that the wreck was doomed. 
Six inches of water still flowed over the deck 
amidships where they stood and he knew that the 
bark was swiftly settling to its long postponed 
doom. 

“We can’t swim that distance,” he shouted in 
Alan’s ears, “and we’re not going to try it.” 

He reached into his pocket and took out his 
knife. Thrusting it into Alan’s cold Angers he 
added, sharply: 

“Hurry forward and cut those lashings.” 

Alan sprang back as if he had been struck. 


238 


The Airship Boys 


“It’s fly now or drown,” exclaimed Ned. “We 
have no choice. She’ll sink in three minutes.” 

As Alan still hesitated Ned pushed him for- 
ward. 

“You haven’t any choice,” cried Ned. “Cut 
away those lashings. Make them all clear. 
Hurry.” 

Alan, as if hypnotized, hesitating no longer 
sprang forward in the dark and Ned hastened 
aft to the cabin. Even as they did so both heard 
a new crash. It was a part of the hold cargo 
slipping out through the rent in the wreck’s side. 
And both knew that the waves of the Pacific had 
taken its place. But Alan, feverishly swift at 
last, had hardly felt his way to the lashings at 
one end of the aeroplane before Ned reappeared. 
In his hand was the cabin lamp. Under his free 
arm was a dark object. 

By the feeble rays of the light it was only too 
apparent that the end had come. The timber of 
the cargo that had littered up the middle deck 
was gone. The side of the wreck where the whale 
had struck was open to the sea. The rail and ten 
feet of the deck had disappeared. Each incom- 
ing surge washed higher and higher and Ned 
made his way forward through a full foot of 
water. Placing the dark object he carried in the 
cabin of the airship, Ned ran to the bowsprit. 


A Strange Collision 


239 


With the aid of the light he made a quick examin- 
ation of the block and ropes holding the anchor, 
and then swiftly readjusted the cables connecting 
them with the car. When he had finished he found 
Alan, pale but resolute, standing before the car. 

“All clear!” exclaimed Alan. His voice was 
strained but firm. 

“Now you’re talking,” answered Ned. “Climb 
aboard.” 

Ned made another hasty trip to the ends of the 
car to make sure, with the aid of the lamp, that 
the stay cables were all free. As he did so he felt 
a ripple of water on his feet. Until that moment 
the forward deck had been above water. He knew 
that they had done all they could. It was now fly 
or swim. Rushing forward he found Alan still 
on the deck. 

“Ned,” exclaimed Alan in a whisper, “I can’t 
help it — I’d rather try to swim. There, see!” he 
cried tremulously pointing westward. Ned made 
out the fading fight of the receding raft. He 
hesitated a moment. He well realized the peril 
into which he was about to throw himself and 
Alan, but he also had enough confidence in the 
craft they had built to believe that the chance was 
worth taking. 

A gurgle of long imprisoned air rushed from 
the hold of the sinking Olivette with a warning 


240 


The Airship Boys 


sound, and a wash of water ran to the shoe tops 
of the hesitating boys. 

Spurred on by new determination Ned held the 
lamp before Alan’s white face. 

“Alan,” he exclaimed in a low voice, “if ever 
you took my advice take it now. Listen,” he ex- 
claimed. “If we fly at all we’ll make it. If we 
don’t fly we can only fall. If we fall then we’ll 
swim.” 

“Will you head her for the raft?” broke in 
Alan quickly as that possibility flashed on him. 

“I’ll do whatever you say,” hastily answered 
Ned. 

The next moment Alan was in the engine sec- 
tion of the car. Ned passed him the lamp and 
then threw himself upward with the agility of an 
acrobat. 

“The starting ropes,” he shouted. 

They were in place. Reaching for them Alan 
stumbled over an object on the floor. Ned sprang 
forward and caught it up. 

“While we have a light,” he exclaimed, out of 
breath, “I’ll just make it safe.” 

And while Alan braced himself with his feet 
against the forward frame of the car to make 
taut the starting ropes Ned again quickly sus- 
pended the precious idol from the upper front 
framework of the engine section. 


A Strange Collision 


241 


The decisive moment had been reached. Ned 
gave the fly wheel a crank and the well tested en- 
gine sprang into life once more. It was a happy 
sound to the boys. But did it mean safety or a 
plunge into the black waves before them? Ad- 
justing the lever operating the forward guiding 
planes Ned took his place on the car to give bal- 
ance, reached for the cord that was to slip the 
anchor, and threw the propeller clutch. 

He could feel Alan straining on the lines con- 
necting the car with the anchor whose drop was 
to start them skyward. 

“Remember,” cautioned Ned. “Look out for 
the jerk, but don’t let go until we reach the 
bowsprit. And then, don’t move until I give the 
word — we are on a balance now.” 

The big twelve-foot propeller was beginning 
to turn like the screw of a liner. The waiting boys 
could feel the cool night air rushing by them. As 
the speed of the wheel increased the car began to 
tremble. Faster and faster, as Ned moved the 
gear clutch, spun the humming yellow blades be- 
hind them — 800 revolutions. The car was push- 
ing forward on its front base. At 1,000 turns a 
minute the skeleton framework rose and jumped 
forward an inch or two. 

“Now!” shouted Ned. 

Biting his lips, trembling with excitement, the 


242 


The Airship Boys 


daring boy threw the clutch to full speed — 1,400 
revolutions a minute. The silken-clad air craft 
felt the thrust and sprang forward, as if about to 
mount skyward of its own momentum. At that 
moment Ned snapped the release cord. 

What had happened? For an instant there was 
no response. Then, with a crash that almost 
threw the braced Alan from the car, the starting 
ropes straightened, creaked, and the Cibola II, 
like an arrow, shot forward. Even as Ned shouted 
the order Alan threw the ends of the ropes from 
him. As the weight of the cords slid around the 
uprights, the ship faltered, and then, stricken 
from behind by the force of her fifty-horsepower 
screw, the aeroplane hurled herself upward and 
clear of the bowsprit. 

The heart of each boy stood still. Would she 
fly? Or were they shooting forward alone from 
the momentum of the dropped anchor? Their 
light was gone! With the sharp impetus of the 
start it had been dashed to the deck of the Oliv~ 
ette. Now, rushing through the night, with not 
even sight of the water beneath to guide them, 
were they ascending or falling? Cold with doubt, 
Ned’s trembling hand pulled the lever again. The 
forward guides responded and the Cibola II 
changed her course — upwards, 

Ned’s heart began to throb with joy. Reach- 


A Strange Collision 


243 


ing quickly to the old rudder wheel he gave it a 
light twist to the right; the swiftly moving car 
shook herself and then — moved to the right. 

“Hurrah!” shouted Ned, no longer able to con- 
trol himself. “She’s flying.” 

“Shall we make for the raft?” he added a mo- 
ment later. 

There was a short silence as Ned gripped the 
steering wheel tightly. 

“Head her for Mexico,” was Alan’s only an- 


swer. 


CHAPTER XXII 

THE ORACLE OF A FORGOTTEN RACE 

Ned had just turned the flashlight on his watch. 
It was twenty-three minutes after nine o’clock. 
Only eleven minutes had elapsed since Alan 
raised the first alarm. Then he consulted the 
pocket compass. Their course was east of south. 
In all their calculations they had reckoned the 
derelict, when they landed on it, northwest of 
Guaymas — the estimated nearest town in Mexico 
— and over four hundred miles distant, at least. 

They knew that for eleven days they had 
drifted steadily south. Whether they had drawn 
nearer land or further out to sea they had no way 
of knowing. If they had drifted at the rate of 
a half a mile an hour — and on some days their 
progress had certainly been more — they were now 
at least one hundred and twenty-five miles south 
of their drop into the sea. 

On the assumption that they were almost west 
of the nearest civilization, the boys headed the 
Cibola II due east. While Ned held the compass, 
Alan brought the aeroplane gradually into her 
new course. Then the new course was laid by the 
stars. Although the turn was a wide one the 
244 


The Oracle of a Forgotten Race 245 


skeleton craft creaked and strained. In attempt- 
ing to lessen the strain Alan eased the wheel. 
There was a check as if some drawing force had 
been suddenly removed, and the ship, righting 
herself, plunged in a long sweep to the right. 
There was a quick glide downward. The daring 
youths grew cold with alarm. Then a soft jarring 
beneath gave them hope. 

The automatic compensator was in operation. 
Evidently the balancing planes were at work, for 
almost instantly the inclined craft came to a new 
level and slowly mounted upward again. The 
hair-raising experience of the first “duck” not 
having proven disastrous, the youthful aviators 
breathed again and took new courage. For a 
time they allowed the airship to fly forward, with- 
out attempting to bring it on a direct course to 
the east. 

In the excitement of their precipitate departure 
and under the strain of attempting to operate the 
ship, Ned and Alan had not had time to speculate 
on the dangers confronting them. Ned had just 
begun to wonder how far they were above the 
water, when Alan exclaimed: 

“What’s that?” 

The words brought to Ned the realization that 
he had been conscious of a strange sound. At 
first he took it to be the humming of the wires. 


246 The Airship Boys 

“Listen!’’ answered Ned. Both boys leaned 
forward. 

As if borne on the breeze sweeping by them 
the sound reached the listeners. The boys shrank 
back together. It startled them as if a ghostly 
face had floated to them out of the empty sky. It 
was the sound of a human voice. Its tone came 
to them in a hollow, echoing key, hke a scornful 
laugh. 

“It’s a voice I” whispered Alan. 

“But where?” replied Ned reaching out and 
grasping Alan’s trembling Angers. “Not below 
us — ” 

He did not finish. The sound suddenly con- 
tracted almost to a whistle and the laugh changed 
to a hiss. And the voice was now just in front 
of them. Alan was about to spring forward. But 
Ned caught him. The airship was on its balance 
— a change of the center of gravity meant a re- 
adjustment of the guiding rudders. 

“It’s here,” added Ned thickly. “HeUol” he 
called. 

The only answer was a change of the hiss back 
into the first jeering cry. 

“Balloon ahoy!” shouted Ned at the top of his 
voice ; and then, as if ashamed of the impulse, he 
added: “Maybe we are near the water!” 

With nervous fingers he reached for the electric 


The Oracle of a Forgotten Race 247 

flashlight again and turned it beneath the open 
framework of the car. Nothing but a black void 
was to be seen. 

“Can you hear the splash of water?’’ he asked 
quickly. 

The taunting, monotonous cry rose and fell, 
but, straining their ears, the alarmed and puzzled 
boys could distinguish no sound of the sea be- 
neath. 

Ned flashed the light toward the front of the 
car. As he did so the idol of the sneering face 
swung toward them in the current made by the 
propeller. In an instant the recollection of its 
curious formation flashed upon both boys; its hol- 
low interior, the unexplained holes in its knees 
and elbows; its slit eyes and leering, pierced 
mouth. Ned shut off the light with a nervous 
cry. 

“The idol!” he exclaimed. “That’s what those 
holes mean.” 

“Singing in the wind,” exclaimed Alan in a, 
relieved tone. 

“I’ve heard of the vocal Memnon of Egypt,” 
added Ned, “the big statue that sings in the 
breeze like a human being. But this little thing — ” 

“Is certainly from Mexico,” interrupted Alan. 
“Those old Indians must have known a thing 
or two. Maybe they stole the idea from Egypt.” 


248 The Airship Boys 

The idol, still swinging, gave out its endless, 
hollow note. 

‘Tf it scared us, how do you suppose it would 
affect an ignorant savage?” suggested Ned after 
the boys had listened for a time to the creepy 
tones of the vibrating image. “Priests made that 
figure, you may be sure.” 

“Another Oracle of Delphi!” interrupted 
Alan. “I can almost imagine it talking to us.” 

“You are right,” exclaimed Ned. “It is priestly 
magic. I haven’t any doubt that it was an oracle 
— sacred above common idols — perhaps a god. 
Think of it!” he added. “We are listening to the 
same tones that may have meant life and death 
to a now forgotten race.” 

“Well,” added Alan, quickly, “I don’t know 
much about forgotten races, but I know I feel 
better. I don’t believe in ghosts, but that thing 
gave me the creeps — or worse.” 

The Cibola II was sailing straight ahead with- 
out a slant. The boys held their position in the 
rear of the middle section, where they knew that 
they balanced the weight of the engine. At last 
Alan asked : 

“What do you mean by a forgotten race?” 

“The early Mexicans,” responded Ned, at once, 
as if his mind had not left the subject. “A race 
so far ahead of the Indians of America that there 


The Oracle of a Forgotten Race 24 d 


is no comparison; a people who possessed arts; 
builders of roads through wildernesses that can 
hardly he penetrated by the railroads of today; 
the makers of pyramids and temples that Egypt 
does not surpass; a race whose antiquity scholars 
cannot even guess.” 

“Aren’t there any of ’em left?” interrupted 
Alan prosaically. 

Ned smiled. “Not even on a page in history,” 
he answered. 

“Do you suppose those educated old ignor- 
amuses made this clay doll?” continued Alan. 

“Alan,” answered Ned, after a pause, “you 
are hopeless.” 

The rebuked Alan only grunted. 

“This little image that strikes you as so amus- 
ing, this oracle of a forgotten race, is probably 
thousands of years old — ^yes, thousands. The peo- 
ple who made it were dead and forgotten when 
Columbus reached America.” 

“Well,” interrupted Alan, properly demure, 
“how do you suppose it got up there in Ari- 
zona?” 

“By being handed down as the most sacred 
rehc of a dying race until, too weak to longer pre- 
serve it, their god was stolen by those who came 
after them — the Aztecs of history. With these 
it traveled, a glorious conquest, until it found a 


250 


The Airship Boys 


new shrine in their holiest temple — the inner, 
secret khiva of the Temple of the Sun.” 

‘Ts that all?” said Alan meekly. 

‘‘That’s enough for you tonight,” laughed 
Ned. 

After a long period of strained silence Alan 
suddenly exclaimed: 

“I suppose it doesn’t bother you that we haven’t 
a scrap of food nor a drop of water?” 

“It doesn’t,” replied Ned cheerfully. “We’ll 
get to Mexico, some time. We may have to skir- 
mish for food but we shan’t want for water.” 

“A blanket wouldn’t have been a bad idea,” 
suggested Alan, ready enough to change the sub- 
ject. “It’s pretty cool up here.” 

“I think that means we are high enough to try 
again to get on our course,” remarked Ned. 
“Let’s try it. But this time make a wider and 
slower sweep.” 

Before this was attempted Ned took another 
look at his watch and compass. It lacked a few 
minutes of ten o’clock and the aeroplane was 
headed east-south-east. 

“That’s a long course to land,” explained Ned. 
“We’ve got to get a slant directly east.” 

Alan understood. If the Olivette had drifted 
directly south they had been constantly leaving 
the land, as the great Mexican peninsula bears 


The Oracle of a Forgotten Race 251 


generally east. Any offing to the south certainly 
lengthened the route to land. The castaways did 
not believe that they were much over a hundred 
miles from the shore, but their hope was to reach 
not only that but to cross over lower California 
and the gulf beyond. This added at least two 
hundred and twenty miles to their aerial flight 
by the most direct route. 

As a matter of fact all their calculations were 
wrong. In their long drift the derelict had ap- 
proached and not receded from the shore. And, 
had the castaways been able to continue their 
journey on the wreck, within three days, as they 
afterwards flgured it, they would have sighted the 
Island of Cerros. The Cibola II had begun its 
initial flight not over sixty miles northwest of that 
island, which lies just off arid Point Natividad. 
At the moment when Ned and Alan took their 
second bearings they were just passing the lower 
bend of the great Bay of Sebastian Viscaino. 

Slowly the bow of the ship was brought up to 
the east. Ned raised the vertical guides at the 
same time. Gradually the lightly balanced craft 
responded and just as gradually the aeroplane 
dipped as the center of gravity was moved in the 
opposite direction. The boys could hear the 
creak of the automatic adjuster moving on its 


252 The Airship Boys 

tracks and as the rear rudders were eased the ship 
righted. 

Twice this was done and then Ned exclaimed: 

“Now, once more, and a little further this time. 
I guess that will fetch her.” 

As the tilting frame swung again Ned cried: 

“There, stop her — hold her.” 

At that moment Alan’s left foot, braced on one 
of the light ladder-like floor strips, shot through 
the piece, and, to save himself, he threw himself 
forward on the rudder wheel. His hands, clenched 
on the wheel, whirled it to the left. There was a 
snap and the wheel spun free. A flap of the rud- 
ders in the rear told that the connecting wire had 
parted. 

As Ned threw out his arms in the dark and 
caught his chum, the Cibola II j responding to the 
shift of its aft rudders, whirled to the left and 
then with a long, careening slant plunged down- 
ward. The helpless young aviators, hardly dar- 
ing to move on the floor of the section, caught 
their breath and waited. Was this the end? The 
balance weight had shot over with a thud, but the 
aeroplane, like a sea bird darting for its food, 
swept onward and downward and then — at last — 
the car righted itself. Thrusting his hand 
through the floor braces Ned felt the balance 


The Oracle of a Forgotten Race 253 

weight slowly returning — they were on a level 
keel. 

In another moment the forward guides had 
taken new hold and the ship was mounting. They 
were saved — for a time at least. 

‘‘We can’t guide ourselves,” exclaimed Alan, 
expressing his first thought. 

“No,” answered Ned. “But we can go ahead 
and we’re doing it beautifully. It was a close 
call, but the balancer did its work.” 

“We can go ahead?” expostulated Alan. “But 
where?” 

As soon as he could regain his position Ned 
flashed his light once more on the compass. They 
were bearing a few points north of east. 

“I expect that’s as good luck as any,” ex- 
claimed Ned. “I’m satisfied. Just clear away 
those wires and let your fear rudders run free. 
We’ll get along without them.” 

Stars had begun to show as the night waned 
and clouds could be seen above, but, beneath, all 
was black. More than once Ned had tried to 
persuade Alan to take a turn at a spell of sleep, 
but the tension of both boys was too high to per- 
mit of rest. Therefore, they talked of their 
friends, of Salty Bill and his expedition, and 
of those waiting for them at McElmo Canyon, 


254 


The Airship Boys 


“What day is this?” Ned said once in their talk. 

“I think it is October 26,” answered Alan. 
“But I’m not sure.” 

“I suppose we’ve been given up for lost,” 
added Ned. “I wonder if they’ve sent word to 
Chicago?” 

The two boys little realized that for a week 
every military post in the southwest, every 
weather observer on the Pacific Coast and scores 
of vesselmen had been watching for some sign of 
the lost Cibola. 


CHAPTER XXIII 

THE MAN WITH THE WHITE BEARD 

With his legs reaching through the broken 
place in the floor of the car, his left arm close 
around the shaft of the idle rudder wheel and his 
shoulder against the section brace of the aero- 
plane, Alan had let his head fall forward. Xed 
knew that the boy was dozing at last. Ned him- 
self, his ear missing no beat of the purring en- 
gine, sat tailor- wise with aching back and heavy 
eyes but never for an instant releasing his grasp 
on the rudder of the forward planes. He knew 
it was after four o’clock. For nearly an hour 
neither boy had spoken. 

The cool air rushing through the car chilled 
the benumbed watcher, but the breeze was grate- 
ful — for on it was the welcome odor of land. 
Something in it told plainly of vegetation and 
earth and fresh water, and the tired watcher 
strained his eyes to detect the first hint of day. 
But, even as he watched, Ned’s own eyelids 
drooped — only for a moment he thought — and 
then, it was the gray of morning. One glance 
below and he shouted aloud: 

255 


256 


The Airship Boys 


“Land! Alan, land!” 

His companion roused himself instantly. There 
could be no mistake. What might be below them 
they could not yet make out, hut plainly it was 
not water. Dark stretches and lighter elevations 
passed swiftly beneath them. 

“It’s the smell of the woods,” exclaimed Alan. 
“It’s trees!” 

In their eagerness, flight now became tedious 
and the boys impatiently awaited the sun. It 
came at last. They made no note of the hour. 
But the first pale glow in the east seemed to cast 
the shifting panorama beneath into even darker 
shadows. One thing they knew. They were 
crossing a wide and deep valley. The first break 
in the east silhouetted before them the serrated 
peaks of a low-lying range of mountains. 

As night seemed to thicken beneath, the sun 
leaped into view with a sudden burst of tropic 
splendor. The black peaks of the mountains be- 
fore them flashed into golden pink and an eagle, 
as if to herald the new day, soared upward toward 
the paling stars. 

“And we are foreign travelers at last,” added 
Ned exuberantly. “We are over Mexico.” And 
then, thoughtfully, he added, “But we’ve missed 
our coast towns. We are on the table land.” 

Alan looked around in some concern. 


The Man With the White Beard 257 


“What do you mean?” he exclaimed. “Isn’t 
that all right.” 

“It’s better than the Pacific or the deserts of 
Lower California, but — ” 

“But what?” insisted Alan. 

“We’ve passed over the land of hotels and tele- 
graph and railroad.” 

“Is that all?” exclaimed Alan. “You scared 
me.” 

“That’s all,” answered Ned, “except that we 
ought to turn around and go back.” 

“Well, why not,” answered his companion. 
“I’m willing.” 

“You’ll have to climb out and fix our rudder 
first,” laughed Ned. 

Alan groaned, almost in despair. “And I 
broke it,” he added, ruefully. 

“You did nothing of the sort,” replied Ned 
stoutly. “A defective plank did it.” 

Day was coming swiftly. Beneath the aero- 
plane, as it soared steadily onward toward the 
mountains, a dense forest appeared. Here and 
there a bird had already darted from its leafy re- 
treat, a brilliant shaft of red and yellow and blue 
against the opaque emerald of tropic vegetation. 
But there was no time for Ned and Alan to feast 
their eyes on this picture — the rugged barrier in 
their path engaged their attention. 


258 


The Airship Boys 


Fortunately the Cibola II was headed for one 
of the gaps in the range. As the aeroplane was 
flying low, the young adventurers had not seen 
beyond the mountains which they were approach- 
ing. These rose like a series of walls, black be- 
neath the shadows yet lingering on them. But, 
beyond the heights, the boys knew that these 
shadows had already given way to the tints and 
warmth of the new day. When the airship, now 
bearing slightly earthward, passed over the first 
slope of the range, it was fifteen minutes of six 
o’clock. As Ned called the hour Alan broke out 
in an exclamation of surprise. 

He had suddenly caught the first view of the 
region beyond the ridge. As the boys craned 
their necks a panorama of surpassing beauty 
opened before them. The high range over which 
they were passing was but the raised ruin of an 
endless table land. On its softly undulating sur- 
face a dense forest reached to the distant horizon. 
The mountains themselves shelved gently, by ver- 
dure and fiower-painted slopes, into the emerald 
walls of the jungled trees beneath — the untracked 
wilderness of Central Mexico. 

“What’s the matter with landing on this 
slope?” suggested Alan at once. “We can never 
make our way out of that ocean of trees.” 

“We can go for another hour,” argued Ned, 


The Man With the White Beard 259 


half to himself, “and that may mean forty miles.” 

In five minutes they were at sea once more — 
but this time over billows and depths of tropic 
vegetation. In less than half an hour the rim of 
the mountains had dropped low on the western 
horizon. 

“I’d like mighty well to see signs of hills 
ahead,” suggested Ned at last as he tapped the 
gasohne reservoirs and listened to their hollow 
sound. “We can’t — ” 

“Look,” shouted Alan excitedly. “There’s 
something!” 

Before Ned gave any indication that he saw, 
he shot out his hand and threw the engine clutch 
to half speed. 

Directly in their path a brown point rose like 
a spire in the wilderness of trees and vines. It 
was sharp and distinct like a church steeple. In 
the monotony of the sea of green it fixed itself 
on the two observers like a monument. As the 
propeller dropped in its swift revolution and the 
Cibola II eased in its flight the surprise of the 
boys gave way to startling wonder. 

A weird chant fell on their ears. Out of the 
impenetrable depths beneath them rose the drone 
of human voices in barbaric song. Then, as the 
airship drifted onward and their line of vision 
widened, Alan clutched Ned’s arm — the thick 


260 


The Airship Boys 


tropic tangle had suddenly opened and the brown 
point had widened into the sides of a pyramid. 

On a plaza, half way up the sides of a gigantic 
pyramidal structure, with their arms extended 
toward the just rounded sun, stood three men. 
As the new sun struck the group one glance told 
that they were Indians. Even in the first quick 
glance Ned and Alan saw more. In the rear 
of the group, his hands bound behind him, stood 
a fourth man. Instantly the two boys knew that 
this man was not an Indian; his hair and long 
beard were snow white. 

“It’s a white man,” whispered Ned. 

“We can’t stop,” cried Alan, anticipating what 
was in Ned’s mind. 

“Can’t?” exclaimed Ned. “What if we were 
there and he was here? Would we expect him to 
leave us because it meant danger?” He had his 
hand on the engine. 

“You’re right,” cried Alan. “He’s in trouble.” 

Both boys knew that their first landing meant 
the end of the aeroplane. And both realized that 
descent was like jumping into the open sea. The 
picture had fiashed before them so quickly that 
they had not even speculated on its meaning, but 
something in the breast of each told him that a 
member of his own race needed his help. With- 
out stopping to think it out they also realized 



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The Man With the White Beard 261 


that if the white man before them was in peril, 
they were about to put themselves in the same 
position. They had no weapons; but without 
hesitation and as a man might plunge into the 
water at the risk of his own life to save a dog, 
Ned — for the engine had been shut off the instant 
that the pathetic figure of the white man had 
been seen — ^threw the forward planes down and 
the airship sank slowly earthward. 

Not until then, apparently, had the aeroplane 
been noticed. There was a sudden break in the 
low, wild song, a sharp cry, and the boys saw the 
three sun-gazing Indians turn. At the same mo- 
ment the face of the monumental structure rushed 
into view. It was an immense double pyramid 
rising from a wide terraced mound at the foot 
of which, for the first time, the awe-stricken boys 
saw a narrow watercourse. On the eastern face 
of the lower pyramid wide steps rose to the ter- 
race on which stood the three Indians and the 
white man. At the base of the pyramid, almost 
lost in a maze of stone structures, were grouped 
hundreds of strangely garbed savages. 

The aeroplane dropped lower and lower. A 
gentle breeze wafted it to the left. It was headed 
toward the upper plaza. 

‘‘They are priests,’’ said Ned at last in a low 
tone, as the garb of the three Indians on the 


262 


The Airship Boys 


pyramid could be made out. ‘‘It is a religious 
ceremony of some kind.” 

The three Indians were retreating to the far 
edge of the terrace. The white man, his hands 
bound behind him, stood as if transfixed. 

“Whatever happens,” added Ned suddenly, 
“keep a stiff upper lip. See, they are scared al- 
ready. A good bluff may work better than a 
firearm here.” 

But, at that moment, their headway almost lost, 
the veering breeze seemed to die out, and the 
Cibola II, as if eager to make some expiring 
demonstration, darted to the right and shot 
toward the ground. As it did so the automatic 
balancer slid over, the tips readjusted themselves, 
and for an instant the drop was checked. In that 
second Ned and Alan hurled themselves over the 
rear of the lower frame and, ten feet from the 
earth, dropped from the ship. One end of the 
car fell on Ned’s back, but Alan, stumbling for- 
ward, escaped the crash. 

The drop had been made at the extreme rear 
edge of the open ground at the base of the 
strange towering pyramid. The aeroplane was 
in ruins, so far as further flight was concerned. 
The lower frame was smashed, but the strong 
central section of the car yet stood, almost box- 
like, among the mass of twisted supports and torn 


The Man With the White Beard 263 


silk. By the time Alan had lifted the wreckage 
from Ned, who was only slightly bruised, a horde 
of shrieking savages was upon them. 

The two boys together sprang toward the cen- 
tral part of the ruined car. Before them, in a 
terrifying circle, ran the lines of the apparently 
equally alarmed Indians. But they had paused 
suddenly in their rush. Back of them, and be- 
yond a maze of stone sculptures and monuments 
on the ground terrace, rose the wide steps of the 
great pyramid. Down these, to the added alarm 
of the fear-stricken lads, the three priests were 
hurrying with flying steps. The snowy-bearded 
white man still stood, as if cut in stone, on the 
plaza high up on the pyramid. 

“Be game,” whispered Ned. His mouth was 
framed to say more, but the words did not come. 
A long, thin arrow shot out from the rear of the 
pressing line of natives and passed directly be- 
tween the two boys. 

With fear in his heart and trembling limbs Ned 
sprang forward. His face was white and cold. 

“Back,” he shouted, sweeping his arms before 
him. To a man the savages retreated a step. 

“Look,” he exclaimed, without a quaver in his 
voice. Turning toward the wrecked aeroplane he 
bowed low with his hands on his breast. Then, 
wheeling sharply, he pointed toward the sky and 


264 


The Airship Boys 


westward. Again he turned to the car and bowed 
as if in reverent obeisance. Then, facing the 
ring of amazed savages once more, he laid off his 
cap, extended both arms toward the mounting sun 
and stood motionless. 

As he stood thus he was conscious that the com- 
pact line of Indians had opened and that the three 
Indians from the upper plaza were making their 
way forward. Not a word was uttered. When 
the priests were before him, Ned, with no plan 
yet formed, but with a stout heart, turned and 
faced them boldly. The only thought in his 
mind was that he and Alan were messengers from 
the sky. Feebly playing on the idea once again 
he turned and pointed skyward. The priests, 
stolid of face, looked on in silence. 

Alan, standing by the car, had puzzled his 
brain in vain to think of some way in which to 
assist his chum in his theatrical efforts. Along 
the open river bed a light breeze was blowing. A 
puff of it shot into the open ground. 

“Ah, huh! — Ah, huh!” came in a low sound 
from the car behind him. The suspended image 
swayed forward and touched his shoulder. The 
sneering idol! The oracle of a forgotten race! 
Instantly, all that Ned had said to him of what 
this relic might have once meant, flashed into his 
muddled head. He grasped at the thought. With 


The Man With the White Beard 265 


trembling fingers he loosened the cord holding 
the vocal idol and, with an inspiration he never 
understood — almost without knowing what he 
was doing — he swung the figure back and forth 
as a priest might circle a holy lamp. 

“Ah, huh!— Ah, huh r 

The centuries-old monotone of the hollow 
image sounded like a voice from the tomb. 

Before Ned could grasp the full significance 
of Alan’s accidental but masterly stroke, there 
was a piercing cry. One of the three priests, a 
wrinkled and aged man, had thrown himself on 
the ground at Ned’s feet and before the alarmed 
lad could spring away the venerable Indian had 
clasped the boy’s foot in his hands and placed it 
on his prostrate head. At the same moment the 
other priests turned to the Indians behind them 
and began shouting at the tops of their voices. 

As if addressing a god, Ned turned toward 
Alan who was now holding the idol reverently 
aloft. 

“I don’t know what this all means, old man,” 
he exclaimed oratorically and winking, “but I 
guess the bluff went all right.” 


CHAPTER XXIV 

THE SACRIFICIAL PYRAMID 

The warlike attitude of the savages changed 
at once. The two priests shouted in monotonous 
repetition words that seemed to ring with jubila- 
tion. The Indians began to press forward; at 
first curiously and then eagerly. Both boys saw 
that the change in the attitude of the natives was 
somehow due to the idol. The murmur of the 
excitement that arose, a certain awe that had fall- 
en on the now broken line and the fixed stare of 
one hundred and fifty pairs of eyes showed this. 

“Keep it up, Alan,” exclaimed Ned in a full, 
round voice, as if addressing some hearer in the 
skies and assuming that no one before him under- 
stood English. “Keep up the bluff. Be mys- 
terious. The idol has done it.” 

Alan placed the little figure on the frame of 
the car and sank on his knees before it, lowering 
his face to the ground and repeating, mysterious- 
ly and solemnly : 

“Eeny, meeny, miny, mo; 

Catch a nigger by the toe. 

If he hollers let him go, 

Eeny, meeny, miny mo.” 

266 


The Sacfificial Pyramid 


26T 


At the same time Ned motioned the ancient 
priest at his feet to rise. The venerable Indian 
was trembling with emotion. His eyes fell again 
on the clay effigy and in a sudden paroxysm of 
either fear or joy he threw himself once more on 
the ground. The other priest did the same, and 
then, as if inspired by some frenzy, all the other 
savages followed his example. 

Ned joined Alan and knelt with him before 
the object of all this devotion. He whispered: 

“You are the custodian of the sacred relic; I 
am the vanguard. We won’t give it up until we 
have solved the mystery of the white man.” 

Slowly rising, with low obeisance, Alan again 
approached the figure and swung it in the air — 
this time swiftly like a swinging top. 

“Ah, huh! — Ah, huh!” almost shrieked the 
image. 

The prostrate savages, following the example 
of the chief priest, set up a cry — almost a psean 
of praise. Ned leaned forward, intently listen- 
ing, and then, suddenly, as if the hollow figure 
had spoken, he threw his arms in the air and 
shouted : 

“White man, ahoy!” 

The figure of the white haired and snowy 
bearded man was still standing erect on the upper 
plaza of the pyramid. In the few minutes that 


268 


The Airship Boys 


had elapsed since the boys had first seen him, the 
man had not once altered his statuesque position. 
Even the sound of Ned’s voice seemed to have 
no effect. 

“Come down,” cried Ned again, at the top 
of his voice. Both boys were sure they saw the 
strange figure straighten a trifle, but the man 
made no move. 

“Come,” exclaimed Ned to Alan. “We’ve got 
to go to him. Remember, the idol is our pass- 
port.” 

Then, approaching the three priests, Ned mo- 
tioned them to arise. In the girdle of the chief 
of these there was a poniard or dagger. Delib- 
erately Ned took it by the handle. At the first 
movement of protest on the part of the priest 
he promptly released the knife and stepped 
back. With all the dignity he could throw into 
his tones Ned repeated the idol’s siren, “Ah, huh! 
— Ah, huh!” The effect was magical. With 
signs that could not be mistaken Ned ordered 
the priest to lay his knife at the sneering idol’s 
feet. 

As if hypnotized, the old man advanced rev- 
erently and did so. The weapon was a keen- 
edged implement of green stone. Thereupon 
Ned, extemporising his litle play as he proceeded, 
advanced to the image. Putting his ear to its 


The Sacrificial Pyramid 


269 


sneering mouth he quickly placed his heel on 
the blade of the knife. It snapped in three pieces. 

“They were going to kill that white man/’ sug- 
gested Ned in a loud voice, as if again address- 
ing the kneehng savages, “and with this knife. 
Perhaps it was a sacrifice,” he added, as the idea 
dawned on him. “If it was, we’ll save the man.” 

Laying his handkerchief on the ground Ned 
placed the fragments of the knife in it and then 
dehberately tied them in a small bundle. 

“Hold on,” whispered Alan, “I have an idea. 
Hand me the package.” 

Ned did so, dropping on his knees as if Alan 
were a priestly representative of the idol. Tak- 
ing the knotted handkerchief Alan stepped into 
the car and, from the reservoir valve, saturated 
the linen cloth with gasoline. At the same time 
he concealed a match in his hand. Returning 
he made a salaam to the idol ; placed the gasoline- 
soaked handkerchief on the clasped knees of the 
figure and, as he did so, deftly scratched the 
match on the hard clay. A 'mass of flames shot 
into the air and the spell of the image was com- 
plete. In tongues of devouring fire the oracle 
had annihilated the emblem of war and death. 

With renewed cries of wonder and alarm 
priests and savages sprang back from the blaz- 
ing idol. 


270 


The Airship Boys 


“I reckon that did the business/’ exclaimed 
Alan. “I’m ready. Lead on.” 

With the dignity of a field marshal Ned waved 
^ the terrified savages aside once more and the two 
boys advanced without hindrance toward the 
pyramid. The boys’ wonder at the astonishing 
effect wrought upon the Indians by the clay im- 
age was almost as nothing compared with that 
which they felt at the amazing picture now be- 
fore them. Afterwards, when Ned and Alan had 
made themselves familiar with the history, so far 
as it is known, of the marvelous ruins that lie en- 
tombed in these Mexican forests, they began to 
believe that their senses had not deceived them. 
As they stood there, what they saw seemed only a 
dream. Even Ned, with some knowledge of the 
hidden palaces, temples, and statues that have 
been lost for countless ages in these tropic woods, 
was not prepared to believe in the reality of what 
he saw. 

They were making their way forward on an 
enclosed terrace of earth. Behind them a wall 
of mammoth stone blocks dropped thirty feet to 
the tree-tunnelled river beneath. The terrace, 
which was about six hundred feet square, ended 
in three small pyramids on both the east and west 
sides. The summit of only one of these was per- 
fect. The others were in crumbling, vine-covered 


The Sacrificial Pyramid 


271 


ruins. On two of them trees were growing. 
Within the terrace, a city of small temples, stat- 
ues, minor elevations paved with gigantic stone 
slabs and almost countless stone platforms lay in 
the chaos of ruin wrought by time and vegetation. 
But, strangely enough, there was no sign of pres- 
ent habitation or life. 

On the north side arose the most stupendous 
wonder of all, the tree-topping pyramid on whose 
elevated plaza could be seen the object of the 
boys’ concern — the white man — who yet stood im- 
movably facing the sun. There was no time to 
note the ruins through which they were passing. 
Afterwards, in part at least, they saw them — 
columns of figures in bas-relief and carved de- 
signs perfect in detail — but at that moment they 
had but one thought. 

Bearing the blazing idol before them Ned and 
Alan hurried forward. They were not followed. 
When the clay became too hot for his comfort, 
Alan paused, set it on what he afterwards made 
out to be one of the most elaborately carved al- 
tars, and, while the dying fumes shot from the 
sneering idol’s mouth and eyes, the boys circled 
the stone structure intoning this sepulchral 
chant : 

“Old Mother Hubbard, she went to the cup- 
board — ’’ 


272 


The Airship Boys 


“Come,” urged Ned again, “we’ve had enough 
of this foolishness.” He was looking toward the 
plaza and its strange occupant. “He hears us!” 
he cried. 

The snow-white locks of the man were thrown 
back and his head was raised as if he at last heard 
but could not understand. Yet his face still 
fronted the east; he neither turned nor tried to 
look. 

“He’s blind!” whispered Alan. 

Catching up the wonder-working idol the two 
boys hastened forward. One hundred and thirty 
steps, each eighteen inches high, confronted them. 
Fifty feet from the top — and now only the man 
from his waist up could be seen — they paused for 
breath. 

“Are you a white man?” shouted Ned. 

The strange figure turned at last. The sun 
fell on his white sightless eyes. His lips moved, 
but no sound came from them. His arms were 
held close behind him; his long white beard fell 
on the ragged remnants of a patched and worn 
shirt of wool. About his waist an Indian belt held 
the shreds of a pair of trousers. With a last leap 
the exhausted boys reached the plaza. It was 
of stone, smooth and cemented. 

Both boys rushed forward. Before they could 
speak again the form of the man seemed to stif- 


The Sacrificial Pyramid 


273 


fen itself as if to meet a shock; his seamed and 
bronzed face set itself in defiance. 

“We are white men — Americans,” exclaimed 
Ned again. “You are a white man?” 

As if understanding at last the man’s head 
lunged forward, his horrible blank eyes seemed 
to expand as if to see, and then, without a word, 
he collapsed and sank to the stone plaza. With 
desperate haste Ned and Alan lifted him. Di- 
rectly behind him and in the center of the plaza 
was a single long slab of stone elevated on four 
globes. On this the boys placed the emaciated 
and unconscious body. 

With one slash the thongs binding the man’s 
hands were cut. Far below them the boys could 
make out the wonder-paralyzed savages. 

“We were right,” whispered Ned, “and we are 
too late. It is a human sacrifice. He’s lying on 
the altar on which the demons meant to kill him. 
But why? And how did he come here? A 
white man, worn to nothing, blind and weakened 
almost beyond understanding?” 

The man moved and groaned feebly. The 
boys fanned him and stroked his hands. His 
lips seemed to move. 

Ned leaned over him. 

“You are saved,” he almost shouted. “We are 
white men.” 


274 


The Airship Boys 


Suddenly the sightless eyes and the vacant face 
turned toward the speaker. 

“White?’’ It was a strange, hoarse whisper. 

“Yes, you are saved.” 

The recumbent figure sprang up; the feeble 
arms reached forward — 

“White — English?” repeated the trembling 
figure. 

“White, yes; friends.” 

The weakened man fell back again and his 
whole body quivered. 

“Who are you?” he moaned. 

“Two boys from America. And when you 
are strong enough we are going to take you away 
with us.” 

The feeble fingers of the old man groped in the 
air. The boys understood. They put their hands 
in his. With a frenzied motion the white 
crowned figure ran his fingers over the arms and 
bodies of his rescuers. A wan smile formed it- 
self on his lips. 

“What — what year,” he murmured at last, 
wearily. 

“What year?” repeated Alan, “this is 190 — ” 

For some moments the emaciated victim lay 
without speaking. 

“Seven years,” he almost whispered at last. 
“Seven years in — in hell.” 


The Sacrificial Pyramid 


275 


‘‘Were you a prisoner seven years?” asked Ned. 

The man moved his head. 

“Well, you are saved now,” added Alan. 

Again the man attempted to rise. 

“Too late,” he cried desperately, “too late. I’ve 
suffered too long. I’m dying.” 

The frightened boys drew back. The human 
sacrifice had succumbed to the shock of a white 
man’s voice. Then the boys’ pluck returned. 
They would save the old man. Life was not ex- 
tinct, and while it fluttered there was hope. 

“No,” exclaimed Ned, “you are not dying. You 
are going to get well.” 

A groan escaped the sufferer. 

“I couldn’t suffer more. If you can make this 
hollow shell a man again; if you can take me from 
this, I— I—” 

“W e can and will,” interrupted Alan. 

“I’ll make you rich, rich,” almost shouted the 
aged captive. “I’ll give it to you — all. Here, 
see — ” 

The struggling victim thrust his hand beneath 
his shirt — but he was too weak to do more. His 
arms fell on his chest. Tears sprang to the eyes 
of both boys. 

“Tell us,” urged Ned. “Did the Indians blind 
you?” 

The old man shuddered. 


276 


The Airship Boys 


“They burned out my eyes that I might not see 
this place. Years ago they brought me here — 
when my hair turned white. Day and night I 
have lived in a stone house I never saw. They — 
they prayed to me,” he added, almost under his 
breath. 

“They prayed to you?” exclaimed Alan. 

“Prayed to me like a sacred thing.” 

“And then they brought you up here to — to — ” 

“Kill me? Aye, lads, to kill me. When I 
learned their talk I knew it would come some 
day.” 

The old man fell back in his weakness. 

“But they haven’t,” added Ned, bravely, “and 
we are going to take you back home. We’ll get 
food and water for you — ” 

The suffering man lay without reply for a few 
moments. 

“It’s too late,” he murmured at last. “But — 
but — late or soon, you can have it all — I — I’ve 
saved the secret for years — it’s yours.” 

Again he pointed feebly to his breast. 

“Why did they bring you up here?” went on 
Alan after a longer pause. He could not say, 
“Why did they want to kill you?” 

At last the fast weakening victim spoke again. 

“It’s high up, isn’t it?” he asked wearily. 


The Sacrificial Pyramid 277 

‘'It’s above the trees,” explained Ned with emo- 
tion. 

“And you can see the clouds and sky?” 

“Yes,” answered Alan. 

“Here, up here in the sky,” went on the old 
man at last, “to call back the idol of their — 
their — ” 

“To recover for them the idol stolen from their 
ancestors years ago,” suggested Ned thickly. 

“A white man — a white man was to bring it. 
I—” 

“And you were to summon back the sacred 
relic or die?” added Ned trembling. 

“— or — or die — I—” 

There were no more questions and no more 
answers. The worn captive had escaped from 
his bondage. 


CHAPTER XXV 

THE SECRET OF THE SERPENT^’S MOUTH 

The realization that the captive was dead was a 
shock to the boys. As they arose and turned 
from the sacrificial altar on which the worn and 
wounded body was stretched in its endless sleep, 
their eyes fell on a scene which might easily have 
disconcerted stouter hearts. From the plaza on 
which they stood, far up the slope of the pyr- 
amid, they could look about only as if they stood 
on the margin of a huge bowl. Beyond the sharp 
circle of towering trees waves of green ran like 
over-topping billows. From its summit, no doubt, 
the pyramid commanded a view of the horizon- 
bound waste. 

“And it’s through that labyrinth of vegetation 
that we’ll have to get out!” suggested Ned. “We 
can’t do it without guides.” 

The risen sun now flooded the great well in the 
wilderness with golden light. The green-en- 
crusted grey ruins and the tendril-twisted col- 
umns of carving lay at the foot of the pyramid in 
stupendous chaos. Ned and Alan, dropped out 
of the sky into this dead and lost wonderland, 
were viewing vestiges of the past on which the 
278 


The Secret of the Serpent's Mouth 279 


eyes of white men had never rested. The sublim- 
ity of what lay about them dwarfed the present 
peril of the two lads. But practical Alan could 
not very long forget the present, even in the 
shadow of the unknown monuments of the past. 

“Then our idol must give us guides,” he ex- 
claimed, “and it can’t do it up here. We have 
these heathens going. Let’s finish the job.” 

“And this — ?” suggested Ned, indicating the 
body of the torture-drawn victim. 

“We’ll make these gibbering savages give him 
decent burial.” 

Composing the body of the dead man in its last 
sleep, Ned and Alan slowly descended to the ter- 
race. Marching again through its crumbled re- 
mains to the spot where the Indians were yet 
grouped, the boys were surprised to note, for the 
first time, how ill-suited to their wonderful sur- 
roundings the savages seemed. Half naked, al- 
most weaponless and without the slightest trace 
of nobility in countenance, the cowering assembly 
behaved like frightened sheep. The priests alone 
stood their ground. 

These facts, with the total absence of tents or 
huts, convinced the boys that the permanent habi- 
tations of the savages were not among the ruins. 

“Only the priests stay here,” suggested Ned. 
“These degenerate descendants of the civilization 


280 


The Airship Boys 


that wrought these gigantic works live elsewhere. 
They probably assemble here for ceremony. No 
doubt they came today for some festival.” 

“Yes,” bitterly added Alan, “a festival of 
death.” 

“The white man was a prisoner here — in one of 
these half ruined temples. W e must see that prison 
first of all,” added Ned. 

“Why?” asked Alan. 

“Because he may have left some record. The 
secret he seemed to think he had may be there.” 

Before the boys left the plaza on the pyramid 
they had made an examination of the white man’s 
body. But nothing rewarded their search. The 
despairing captive had spoken of a secret that 
would make some one rich and had made signs 
indicating that the secret was carried beneath his 
shirt. Nothing was found on his emaciated frame 
or in his pockets. When Ned and Alan ap- 
proached the Indians once more, they were glad 
to find the priests awaiting them with food and 
drink. Then they realized that they were hungry. 

Almost ignoring the savages, they placed the 
idol on the beautifully carved base of a column. 
Bowing and scraping, and repeating chance 
words in a pompous and oracular manner, the 
boys knelt before the image, and, accepting the 
food — not as a welcome gift, but as a matter of 


The Secret of the Serpenfs Mouth 281 

course — they slowly and with dignity ate of the 
crude corn tortillas and bananas and drank with 
relish the foaming but bitter, unsweetened choc- 
olate proffered them. At the conclusion of the 
meal the head priest was summoned. Ned pointed 
to the plaza above and described by gesture a 
flowing beard, and then peremptorily swept his 
arm toward the ruined temples about them. The 
priest understood. 

Led by the Indian high priest and followed 
by his two assistants, Ned and Alan crossed the 
terrace to its eastern side. Here, at the foot of 
the middle and smallest pyramid, a stone struc- 
ture rose about four feet above the surface of 
the ground. Passing to the north, the boys dis- 
covered that the exposed portion of the structure 
was the upper part of what had been a carefully 
wrought temple about twelve feet wide and 
nearly forty feet long. On three sides the solid, 
packed earth reached within four feet of the 
roof, which was flat and composed wholly of care- 
fully cut, smooth slabs of stone, apparently ce- 
mented together. The entrance was between two 
columns delicately carved in bas-relief. Prom- 
inent in the design were intricate cartouches 
resembling those of Oriental records. 

The main figure of the column on the right, 
judging by the smooth face and the dehcate 


282 


The Airship Boys 


hands, was evidently that of a woman. On the 
left column the grotesque representation of a 
man stared at the observer. The distorted mouth 
and wide open eyes of this figure were evidently 
designed to inspire fear. These columns were 
partly imbedded in the stone walls of the front 
of the temple, and an opening between them gave 
entrance to the corridor-like room behind. This 
room was divided into two parts by a wall, with 
a small doorway in it, which cut across the apart- 
ment about twenty feet from the entrance. 

Both these rooms were lighted through open- 
ings left just beneath the roof monoliths, too 
high above the fioor to permit a view through 
them, but admitting air and reflected light. The 
first chamber was absolutely barren of decora- 
tion, utensils or furniture and showed no signs of 
use. But, strangely enough, the smooth walls 
were tinted a dull, faded red. The second cham- 
ber could be entered only through the low open- 
ing in the heavy partition. This aperture was not 
more than eighteen inches high by two feet wide. 
Just in front of the opening was a narrow, rec- 
tangular pit, slightly broader than the aperture 
and extending about a foot below the base of the 
entrance. Alongside the pit was a heavy slab 
of stone. Ned saw the purpose of this at once. 

“All you have to do,’’ he said, pointing to the 


The Secret of the Serpent's Mouth 283 


pit and the grave-stone-like slab, ‘‘is to drop the 
slab into that pit. The opening would then be 
sealed. From the other side you could not budge 
the barrier. It is a prison without lock or key.” 

As they prepared to enter the far chamber 
Alan stopped. 

“Go ahead,” he said to Ned. “I’ll wait here.” 

The priests were on their knees just without, 
jabbering and beating their breasts. 

“That stone fits too easily,” explained Alan. 
“I’ll just make sure that some interested person 
doesn’t drop it into place with us on the wrong 
side of it.” 

Ned remained some moments in the inner tem- 
ple room. 

“That’s where the white man lived,” he ex- 
plained when he had crawled out again. “There 
is a rough skin bed on poles in there and a water 
jug. He had tried to write on the walls, but I 
couldn’t make out anything, not even his name. 
There isn’t a scrap of clothing or other furni- 
ture.” 

“Is the room like this?” 

“Looks as if it had been a place of worship. 
It has red-tinted walls like this, but at the far 
end — and it’s the only thing in the room — is an 
altar that I want you to see. J ust go in and look 
it over while I watch.” 


284 


The Airship Boys 


Alan did so. Before him, almost like marble 
in the keen morning light, he saw a marvelously 
carved single block, of stone about six feet square 
and four feet high. On top of this was another 
section of white stone, divided into thirty-six tab- 
lets, on which were hieroglyphics in low relief. 
The large stone rested on four spheres of darker 
material. Each side of the main portion of the 
altar, or whatever it was, bore the effigies in high 
relief of four individuals seated cross-legged in 
Oriental fashion. All the figures wore breast- 
plates and head-dresses of gorgeous and com- 
plicated design, suggesting feathers, or the head 
ornaments of the Javanese of today. Each of 
the characters held in its hand an instrument, 
whether scepter or weapon could not be made 
out. And, at least once on the face of each side, 
appeared the unmistakable form of a serpent. 

‘'Think of it!” exclaimed Alan when he reap- 
peared after a long examination of the wonder- 
ful carving. “The blind man never even saw 
those figures.” 

“But you can be certain that he knew them,” 
suggested Ned. “In his long, sunless days of 
captivity you can be sure that he examined every 
inch of those carvings with his fingers. He 
learned them better in that way than we have 
with our eyes.” 


The Secret of the Serpent's Mouth 285 


It was now after ten o’clock. The boys agreed 
that the thing to do at once was to see that the 
dead prisoner had decent burial. Then they 
would attempt to coerce the priests and their fol- 
lowers to lead them out of the noisome jungle 
of vegetation to civilization, or to a point, at 
least, whence they might find assistance. As a 
reward for that service they would surrender in 
time the precious idol to its worshipers. 

Following this plan they made signs that four 
men must ascend to the plaza above and remove 
the body lying there. But at once they saw that 
this was not possible. The looks of horror that 
came into the faces of the priests suggested that 
the pyramid was probably never profaned by 
those out of the priesthood. After pretending 
to consult the oracle the boys motioned the priests 
to perform that office. Under the leadership of 
Ned the two younger priests at once mounted 
the pyramid. The dead man lay at full length 
on the altar. As Ned approached the body he 
noticed that the breeze had wafted the ragged, 
buttonless shirt of the corpse to one side. Care- 
fully lifting the long white beard of the victim 
to replace the shirt, Ned sprang back in surprise. 
On the white breast of the dead man he had seen 
what looked like words. The two priests stood 
unmoved. Trembling, Ned lifted the dead man’s ' 


286 


The Airship Boys 


snowy, flowing beard once more. He was not 
mistaken. Crudely, but unmistakably tattooed 
on the pallid flesh were these words : 

^'Blind, crazy snake head al ” 

What did they mean? Plainly enough that 
the despairing captive when already blind had 
feared that he was losing his mind. He had 
pointed to his breast when he had spoken of his 
secret, but what meaning had these words ? Look- 
ing again Ned could only conclude that a portion 
of the laboriously tattooed words was missing — 
worn away, perhaps, without the desperate man’s 
knowledge. As the priests shouldered the dead 
man and slowly descended to the terrace Ned 

racked his brain over this puzzle. “Snake al” ? 

Then the solution came in a flash. “Al ” 

meant altar. “Snake altar” could only mean the 
altar in the man’s prison. In some manner the 
snake altar was to reveal the old man’s secret. 

Alan’s greatest surprise was over the fact that 
a blind man without needle or color should have 
been able to trace these words on his own flesh. 

Ned’s answer was not satisfactory, but it had to 
suffice. 

“Because you can’t figure out just how a mar- 
velous thing can be done, never conclude that it 
can’t be done. There are the words and they are 
pierced in the skin. That is enough. I think 


The Secret of the Serpent's Mouth 287 


we’ll find something on that altar that we didn’t 
see a while ago.” 

Before noon the body of the unknown white 
man, carefully wrapped in a length of silk from 
the wings of the aeroplane, had been buried be- 
neath five feet of dark, soft earth in the adjoin- 
ing forest. With his knife Ned cut the date on 
the surface of the nearest tree and then, having 
finished the only rites they could administer, the 
boys thoughtfully returned to the terrace. They 
signified to the Indians their desire for food and 
it was brought. Immediately afterwards they 
made their way again to the red-walled temple 
of the Snake Altar. 

Ned crawled into the second compartment. As 
before, Alan remained without in the first cham- 
ber. The priests took their places beyond the 
strange doorway columns. It was now high noon 
and the altar room of the temple was at its fullest 
illumination. Rapidly Ned examined the serpent 
forms on" three sides of the carved block. On 
none of them did he discover a sign or mark 
to reward his labors, but he understood now what 
he was to find. The mouth of each snake was 
slightly open, and between the fanged lips he 
could detect a cavity cut within. On the rear 
side of the altar one serpent only appeared. It 
was coiled between the two central figures, and 


288 


The Airship Boys 


the head, in high relief, almost protruded from 
the face of the block. Ned struck a match. Within 
the hollow throat of the snake he detected a 
folded bit of paper. 

The paper, rolled into a compressed cylinder, 
had been forced between the delicate stone fangs 
of the graven reptile, and then, expanding, had 
filled the cavity. It was impossible to extract 
it. Wrenching loose a leg of the hard wood from 
the rude bed in the corner of the chamber Ned 
severed the protruding head with one blow. As 
it struck the stone fioor with a sharp, ringing 
sound Alan knew that something had been dis- 
covered. 

‘T have it,” shouted Ned. In another instant 
he had crawled into the front chamber. Eagerly 
the two boys rushed from the temple into the 
sunlight. With a haughty wave of his hand Ned 
motioned the priests to be gone. When they 
had done so Ned opened the dusty scrap of paper. 
It was a leaf from a cheap account book, and on 
it was the dead man’s secret, written in lead pencil 
in a crabbed, illiterate hand. They made out 
these words: 

“Job Marias, my pardner, died this day, July 
20 [no year was mentioned], I think of a feever 
berried him. August 3 I have been taken by 
Indians. August 7 the mine is lost I am a pris- 


The Secret of the Serpent's Mouth 289 

ner and mistreated. If this book comes in the 
hands of strangers the mine is near Temamasa- 
chic in Cheewawwa [Chihuahua]. You come 
to the town up the Papigo river from La Hunta 
[Junta] on the Yaagua. For direction you go 
up the river from Temamasachic six hours to 
the stone head by the big tree on the left bank. 
From the top forks of the big tree the mountains 
lie east maybe ten miles. There are two peaks 
alike. Between them you come on the high land. 
By my compass the mine lies a point north of 
east at the first big bend in the little creek. There 
too is my cabin with all the gold we mined. This 
I have wrote later I don’t know when. I came 
near dying but I am well again. They burnt out 
my eyes. I am in this new place. I came into 
Mexico two years before I was taken prisoner. 
My name is Daniel Hortop and my folks live in 
Preston, Lancaster County, England. God 
pity me.” 


CHAPTER XXVI 

SAVED EV AN IDOL 

When Xed and Alan had finished reading old 
Daniel Hortop’s crude letter they felt no sense 
of exultation. Alan made the first comment: 

‘T suppose/’ he said slowly, “you’ll want to 
find this place, wherever it is.” 

“No,” answered Ned thoughtfully, “for two 
reasons. We must get out of here. Our families 
and our friends must be greatly alarmed. And 
then, the mine isn’t ours. This old man may have 
a family — sons, perhaps. It’s our duty to find 
his relatives and give them his secret.” 

Alan nodded his head in approval. 

“Now, what?” he asked. 

“Sleep and rest,” answered Ned. “I’m dead 
tired. I guess we’ve been working harder than 
we thought. But we must remember Salty Bill’s 
maxim. One of us must sleep today and the other 
tonight. So we’ll cast lots. Tomorrow we’ll see 
what the idol can do toward carrying us to our 
friends.” 

The day sleep happily fell to Ned, who really 
needed it most. Retiring to the inner room of 
the temple he threw himself on the cot so long 
290 


Saved by an Idol 


291 


used by the old white man. When he awoke the 
terrace of ruined statues and columns was deep 
in the shadows of evening. Alan, sitting between 
the door columns, was dozing lightly, but with 
the precious image fast locked in his arms. Be- 
fore the temple stood the three priests. On the 
ground was food and chocolate. 

“We might as well know the worst,” exclaimed 
Ned, arousing the half conscious Alan. “I’m 
going to try to make a bargain with these heathen 
— but how long have you been asleep?” he inter- 
jected suddenly. 

“I don’t know,” answered Alan with embar- 
rassment. Then he looked around with a startled 
air. “Hours, I think,” he confessed with alarm. 

“Well, don’t be scared,” laughed Ned. “That’s 
a good sign. It proves that our naked friends 
are afraid of us even when we are asleep. That 
means that the idol is still all-powerful.” 

The Indian priests pointed to the waiting food 
and sank on their knees. But Ned shook his 
head. Taking the end of the string attached to 
the idol’s neck he swung the image in the air. As 
it wailed and sighed the priests prostrated them- 
selves. Bringing the circling figure to a stop 
Ned placed it in the shadowed entrance to the 
temple, and with a peremptory motion signaled 
to the groveling priests to rise. 


292 


The Airship Boys 


Standing silent and motionless for a few mo- 
ments he finally shook his head sadly. The priests 
followed every move. Then, indicating a long 
beard and hair and pointing to the plaza of the 
pyramid above he again made gestures of sorrow. 
From that he changed suddenly to every out- 
ward sign of indignation, and, whirling, pointed 
to the idol. This action was meant to let the 
Indians know that the sneering idol was incensed 
over the treatment given the white prisoner. 
Again Ned’s face dropped into deep melancholy. 
Then, with a sweep of his hand he bade the 
priests leave. 

“That’s enough for tonight,” exclaimed Ned 
as the chiefs of the savages disappeared in the 
night. “Lesson number two will come in the 
morning.” 

“You did it like an actor,” commented Alan, 
“I understood it all.” 

Then Alan took his turn on the skin couch. 
Without a light, and only his own wild crowding 
thoughts to keep him company, Ned found the 
hours passing slowly, but about midnight the 
tired, restless boy had an idea. He thrust the 
idol through the opening into the inner room, 
dropped the stone down into its slit, and, stretch- 
ing himself in front of it, fell into a second sound 


Saved by an Idol 


293 


and grateful sleep. Alan’s rapping on the rear 
of the slab awoke him at daybreak. 

As they hastened from the temple a strange 
sight met their eyes. In the golden light of the 
new sun, against the background of crumbling 
white ruins, knelt the entire tribe of Indians, out- 
lined like a vivid picture in oils. Within the 
silent semicircle and just before the temple door 
stood the two younger priests. At their feet 
knelt their venerable companion. The kneeling 
priest was wholly naked with the exception of 
a breech-cloth, and his shrunken aims were tied 
at his back. His head, bent forward, hid his face, 
but something in the man’s attitude told a story 
without words. 

The two boys sprang forward, each realizing 
what it meant. The aged priest was about to 
give up his life to palliate the anger of the sneer- 
ing idol. One of the younger priests had al- 
ready swung a keen stone machete in the air, 
when Alan threw his arms about the would-be 
executioner and the human sacrifice was averted. 
Trembling with excitement, Ned lifted the kneel- 
ing victim to his feet, loosened with one cut of 
his knife the thongs binding his arms and with- 
drew the gibbering priest to the temple entrance. 

Cries of lamentation began to rise on the morn- 


294 


The Airship Boys 


ing air, but Ned silenced them with a shout of 
indignation. At Ned’s suggestion Alan hastily 
brought out the idol and began swinging it about 
his head. Ned threw himself on the ground. 
“Ah, huh! — Ah, huh!” sang the figure. “Ah, 
huh! — ^Ah, huh!” exclaimed Ned, imitating the 
sounds as nearly as he could. Then, as the wail 
came to an end, he arose and with indignation 
again pictured on his face began lesson two. 

First he made signs that the little idol was in- 
censed over the proposed human sacrifice. Then, 
pointing to Alan and himself, he indicated that 
they were the messengers who had brought the 
ancient relic out of the skies. When he believed 
that this was understood he again pointed to 
Alan and himself and then, wheeling suddenly, 
extended his arm to the west. The eyes of all 
were on him. Again he repeated the motion and 
then, with a sweep of the arm as if to include the 
Indians, he caught Alan’s hand in his and made 
motions as if walking. At last he could see that 
the aged priest, at least, understood. 

Taking up the idol reverently he advanced 
toward the chief priest and made as if about to 
put the image in the Indian’s hands. Then, sud- 
denly withdrawing it, he again pointed to Alan 
and himself and the west. The priests under- 
stood instantly. With shouts they turned and 


Saved by an Idol 


295 


faced the kneeling savages. Again and again 
cries that sounded like noise of jubilation rang 
over the terrace, and when the priests, their faces 
wrought into frenzied looks of happiness, turned 
and threw themselves on the ground before the 
young adventurers, Ned and Alan knew that 
they had been saved by their mummery. 

“But they may change their minds when they 
have their precious bit of baked mud,” suggested 
Alan when the mob had been led away by the 
priests, and the two boys were eagerly attacking 
the breakfast of fruit and cakes left for them. 

“It won’t matter then,” answered Ned, with 
his mouth full of luscious sapadillo and a bowl 
of fragrant black chocolate in his hands. “They’ll 
not get their idol until we see a house roof, where- 
ever and whenever that may be.” 

Within an hour the priests returned and gave 
signs that all was ready. The boys were glad tc 
observe that, in addition to six Indians, the three 
priests were to be of their escort. This gave 
them assurance, because the head priest in par- 
ticular had seemed dominated by the power of 
the idol. The priests were empty-handed. The 
six Indians carried blankets, corn, a stone for 
grinding meal, chocolate, pots for cooking it and 
whirl sticks for beating the beverage into a 
creamy froth. 


296 


The Airship Boys 


There was nothing to be taken from the Cibola 
II but the small compass. The wrecked aero- 
plane the boys gazed at for the last time, with 
real regret. But its purpose was accomplished 
and the delicate car and the once powerful engine 
were abandoned to a lasting tomb among the 
trees beneath which old Daniel Hortop slept. Ned 
tore off a strip of silk and made of it a bag for 
the magic image. Alan then slung the idol over 
his shoulder and the boys took a last look at the 
ruins themselves. 

‘‘They’ll never believe our description of 
them,” sighed Ned, “for the world has never be- 
lieved the stories of the few explorers who have 
penetrated to these wonders.” 

“And we can’t even photograph them,” sor- 
rowfully added Alan. “What wouldn’t Bob 
give to be here!” 

“Now that the excitement is all over and we 
know that we can get out,” musingly added Ned, 
as they sat on an exquisitely carved column, “it 
wouldn’t be a bad idea, perhaps, to wait a few 
days.” 

Alan sprang up in alarm. 

“Wait a few days?” he almost shouted. 

“We could make sketches of everything, and 
plans and diagrams ” 

“Wake up!” exclaimed Alan. “Wake up! Not 


Saved hy an Idol 297 

for me. We’re not going to wait another 
minute.” 

‘‘We’ve hardly looked around,” continued Ned, 
but half smiling as he said it, “and it’s a chance 
that we’ll probably never have again.” 

For answer Alan caught his dreaming chum 
by the shoulder and, without so much as another 
glance at the ruins, signaled to the waiting es- 
cort that they were ready. Ned’s eager eyes 
were fixed on the sun-kissed tip of the towering 
pyramid. 

“Come on!” insisted Alan stoutly. “This is 
no time for dreaming.” 

With another sigh Ned once more swept his 
eyes over the ruined, awesome glories of the past 
at his feet, and then, lifting his cap, almost rev- 
erently, he turned, and the party passed down 
the steps to the river bank below. 

Three days later, their clothing in rags and 
their faces torn with the serrated edges of tropic 
vines and leaves, Ned and Alan, with their faith- 
ful guides, reached the slopes of the Sierra Madre 
Mountains. At noon on the fourth day they 
made camp in a high defile of the rugged range 
and rested until the next morning. On the sixth 
day the valley between the Sierra Madres and 
the coast range had been crossed and the expedi- 
tion went into camp on the east side of the lower 


298 


The Airship Boys 


coast range. The boys were glad to be once 
again above the tangle of tree and vine and out 
of the unwholesome exhalations of the hot and 
fetid jungle. 

‘T didn’t know it was so far to any place in 
this world,” groaned Alan that night as he lay, 
too exhausted to sleep, beneath the brilliant south- 
ern stars. 

“How would you have liked to do it by com- 
pass?” asked Ned wearily. 

No answer was needed. Alan only shook his 
head and sighed. 

The trip through the unending forest had been 
a trial beyond the worst anticipations of the boys. 
In the woods themselves miles of the journey 
had been made by cutting paths through the 
dense growth with machetes. For other long 
stretches the route had been along devious, wind- 
ing and narrow streams where the travelers had 
waded for hours in water or over rocks. When 
they left the streams the silent guides made for 
any slight rise in the ground where the vegeta- 
tion thinned. As they approached each moun- 
tain range they chose the gullies and defiles for 
the advance, but it rained nearly every day and 
the mud in the gullies made progress tedious and 
exhausting. No trail was perceptible to the pant- 
ing lads. They simply stumbled on, now and 


Saved hy an Idol 


299 


then assisted by their escort, more often slipping 
in the sticky, muddy slopes and having to be res- 
cued by the tireless guides all besmeared and rain 
soaked. 

Additional strain was caused by the alternate 
night watches. Never, in the long tramp, did the 
two boys sleep at the same time. If fatigue came 
over the one on watch he awakened the sleeper 
for a relief spell. 

“The worst I fear,” explained Ned, “is that 
they may steal our talisman and leave us in the 
lurch. We’ll take no chances.” 

Soon the forests, less dense, began to drop 
down toward the western lowlands, the ground 
before them rising and falling in gentle slopes. 
On the evening of the seventh day an Indian 
settlement came suddenly into sight on the banks 
of a winding stream. Instantly the priests and 
their followers made a wide detour. As they 
came over a slope the next morning the rolling 
ground dropped almost precipitately into a valley 
below. A white spot shone on the horizon. The 
emaciated, dirty, ragged boys leaned their weary 
forms against each other and drank in the wel- 
come sight. They knew that it was a white- 
washed building. Then a slowly moving, low- 
lying cloud of deep black smoke drifting above 
the trees caught their eyes. 


300 


The Airship Boys 


“It’s a railroad,” whispered Ned. 

The long journey was at an end. Once more 
camp was made and tortillas and chocolate pre- 
pared. Then the attitude of the Indians making 
it plain that they thought they had earned their 
reward, the ceremony of the transfer of the idol 
was performed. Too tired to enact again the 
dramatic role, the boys, with dignity, unwrapped 
the precious figure and with low bows laid it in 
the trembling hands of the old priest. The effect 
was pathetic; to a man the natives threw them- 
selves on the ground and wept for joy. 

It was impossible to take farewell of the In- 
dians in words, but Ned and Alan made them 
understand that they were grateful. The boys 
were about to set out toward the just discernible 
town when Ned paused and began to search his 
pockets. Alan understood and did the same. Be- 
tween them they produced two pocket-knives, a 
small compass, two note books, the renmants of 
one handkerchief, two ten dollar gold pieces, 
three silver dollars and a one dollar bill. 

As souvenirs the compass was presented to the 
old priest — his name had never become intelligible 
to the boys ; the knives were given to the younger 
priests, and the five pieces of silver and gold were 
handed to the astounded but happy carriers. The 


Saved by an Idol 


301 


dollar bill was all that was left for the sixth In- 
dian and the boys were in a quandary. 

Then Alan laughed. “None of the money is 
of any use to them,’’ he suggested, “except for 
the figures on it. Try the bill on him.” 

It was a silver certificate. As the eyes of the 
Indian fell on the picture of the outspread eagle 
and the portraits of Lincoln and Grant his face 
lit up with joy. So the boys left their savage 
friends, happy with their new treasures and 
kneeling again around the squat little idol. 

In mid-afternoon, after several hours stum- 
bling through the dark forest, the sun-blistered 
and skeleton-like adventurers heard a distant but 
unmistakable sound; it was the muffled, strident 
tone of a steam whistle. The boys plunged for- 
ward with renewed courage. 

In the forest it was already growing dark when 
suddenly, the dense foliage parting, a cleared 
rancheria lay under the blistered feet of the wan- 
derers, and, a mile or two heyond, there rose the 
white buildings and smokestacks of Hermo- 
sillo, Mexico — one of the long desired places of 
hotels, railways and the telegraph. 


CHAPTER XXVII 

THE SALE OF THE TREASURE. 

In the long days that had gone by while Ned 
and Alan had been drifting helplessly on the OZi- 
vette^ their friends at McElmo Canyon had been 
busy. Bob Russell, Elmer Grissom and Salty 
Bill had reached the camp after six days’ jour- 
ney. The same rain storm that had delayed the 
ascent of the Cibola had flooded the course 
of the San Juan river, and the return expedition 
was held at the ford two days waiting for the 
water to fall. On the night of the big wind the 
treasure train camped on the banks of the water 
course. Elmer’s knowledge of ballooning made 
him apprehensive concerning the Cibola^ but Bob 
was positive that their friends were already out of 
the mountains and safely at the camp. 

The trip through the Ute reservation was un- 
eventful. At noon on October 17 the camp was 
sighted. Before the tired cavalcade could reach 
the canyon it was met by Senor Oje. When it was 
known that Ned and Alan had not been seen con- 
sternation fell on all. Six days had passed. In 
that time the airship boys should have made sev- 
eral trips. 


302 


The Sale of the Treasure 


303 


‘‘It was de big wind!” exclaimed Elmer at 
once. “I knowed dat it meant trouble.” 

All sorts of theories were advanced, but none 
of them was cheering. The boys, they knew, 
had food for only a few days, and if anything 
had happened to the balloon on the mesa they 
would surely have by this time reached the camp. 
Salty Bill was determined to start at once for the 
mesa. But the counsel of Senor Oje prevailed, 
and solemnly the party advanced to the camp. 
Major Honeywell was more than disturbed by 
the certainty that something had gone wrong. 
He had been anxious for several days, and now 
he went at once into consultation with Senor Oje 
and the new arrivals. 

Elmer’s theories were the ones that decided the 
course of action. 

“I been a watchin’ de wind like I was right 
wid de balloon,” he explained, “an dar ain’t been 
none to give no trouble exceptin’ dat big wind. 
Ef dat caught ’em dey ain’t nowhar round yere. 
Dey’s furder dan de mesa now.” 

There was every chance that the boys had made 
an ascent and had been driven off their course; 
it was not unlikely, the older heads decided, that 
the Cibola had been forced to descend or had 
fallen on some mountain or desert wilderness. 
This theory left little reason for a rescue party 


304 


The Airship Boys 


to return to the mesa, but Bob and Salty Bill 
would listen to nothing else. 

“One of them might be sick,” urged Bob. 
“Perhaps they haven’t left the mesa.” 

At four o’clock that afternoon Salty Bill and 
Bob, on fresh horses and with two new pack ani- 
mals and supplies, started on the back trail. 
Elmer, in spite of his desire to go, was not allowed 
to be a member of the party. Major Honeywell 
and Senor Oje had determined on another course 
of action. Only a few moments after Bob and 
Salty Bill set out, John Rico left on a forced 
ride to Cortez to reach a telephone. He carried 
a telegram to the Governor of Colorado, briefly 
outhning the situation and asking him to notify 
the Governors of Arizona and New Mexico to 
make official inquiry of towns concerning the pos- 
sible sighting of the Cibola, Another message 
was directed to the division superintendent of 
the Santa Fe Railway at Albuquerque asking 
him to communicate with section bosses as far 
west as California. 

No news of the disappearance was sent directly 
to the newspapers as was at first planned but, 
forty-eight hours later, when Major Honeywell 
and Senor Oje and Elmer had reached Dolores 
and found no word of the missing boys, the two 
men framed and dispatched sympathetic but reas- 


The Sale of the Treasure 305 

suring telegrams to Mrs. Napier and Mr. Hope 
in Chicago. And these were just in time, for 
already word of the probable disaster had reached 
the newspapers. The telegrams to Ned’s mother 
and Alan’s father instilled hope in spite of the 
newspaper accounts. 

Dan Mears maintained the camp at McElmo 
Canyon with ample supplies. Several days hav- 
ing passed without word of the missing boys or 
the balloon, Elmer again put forward his theory 
that the air craft, if caught in the terrific gale, 
might have been carried hundreds of miles to the 
southwest. Senor Oje then appealed to the War 
Department and the coast shipping masters. 
When Bob and Salty Bill returned, after eight 
days’ absence, with no word of the missing lads, 
and no news of the balloon could be obtained from 
all the sources to which the anxious ones had gone, 
hope began to wane. 

Three weeks after the day on which the expedi- 
tion had divided at the mesa. Bob Russell and 
Elmer Grissom, helpless in the absence of any 
news of the missing boys, took the train for the 
East. With them journeyed Major Honeywell 
and Senor Oje. The two men were going to 
Chicago under a sense of duty they owed the 
parents of the two boys. Major Honeywell’s in- 
terest in the remarkable relics brought to him by 


306 


The Airship Boys 


the return caravan had been lost in his keen sor- 
row over the tragic close of the trip ; he had only 
indifferently examined the priceless pottery which 
had been boxed and forwarded to Washington. 

The metal treasure of silver and gold, the tur- 
quoise specimens and the great emerald, were in 
Senor Oje’s charge. That gentleman, no less 
moved by the disaster than his associate Major 
Honeywell, had a double object in his trip. 

“It’s all I can do for their parents,” he ex- 
plained sorrowfully. “I am going to dispose of 
the treasure to the best advantage, not for 
ourselves, but for Mrs. Napier and Alan’s fa- 
ther.” 

He had not explained his full plans to Bob, 
but he and Major Honeywell had at once decided 
that, after the expenses of the expedition were 
paid, the entire remaining proceeds, less Bob’s 
share and an adequate compensation to the faith- 
ful Elmer, were to be divided between Mrs. 
Napier and Mr. Hope. Senor Oje and Major 
Honeywell did subsequently proceed to New 
York, where they made most advantageous sale 
of the valuables entrusted to them. 

The silver metal in the pillar bands, the bowls 
and scrapers, the body of the Sacred Eagle and 
the miscellaneous rings, anklets and wristlets 
weighed 3,752 ounces and were found to be worth 


The Sale of the Treasure 


307 


$2,143. The gold bands, bowls, scrapers, wings, 
head and talons of the eagle, and the breastplate 
and the figure of the sun from the temple door 
weighed 1,638 ounces. These were worth by 
weight $32,760. But at Major Honeywell’s 
suggestion these were not put on the market as 
old metal. This portion of the treasure was put 
in the celebrated ethnologist’s charge. No one 
knew better than he the extraordinary value of 
the relics as specimens of a long extinct civiliza- 
tion. The collection was finally divided between 
two museums in America and one in Europe, for 
approximately $80,000. 

Nor were the unique bits of matchless tur- 
quoise disposed of immediately. The supply was 
more than the market demand. All concerned in 
the expedition took specimens of it as lasting 
souvenirs of the remarkable discovery. But $28,- 
000 worth of it was sold outright. 

The sale of the great emerald was also delayed 
some months. Dealers in precious stones were 
skeptical for a time. Then the real history of the 
gem became known in other quarters and on a 
second visit to New York Senor Oje disposed 
of the ancient brilliant privately — ^whether for 
personal adornment or museum purposes is not 
yet known, but the check exchanged for it was 
signed by a name high in the financial world, and 


308 The Airship Boys 

it read $65,000. The aggregate sum realized was 
$173,903. 

At one o’clock on the second of November the 
two men and Bob and Elmer, after long, hard 
grips of silent Salty Bill’s gnarled hand, boarded 
the train at Dolores for Denver. “It’s jes like 
buryin’ em,” exclaimed Elmer with tears in his 
eyes. His words voiced the feelings of the others. 
There was no joy felt in the magnificent scenery 
that day. Once, in the long afternoon. Major 
Honeywell said to the young reporter: 

“Bob, I suppose you have your story at last — 
even if it is a tragedy.” 

Young Russell was silent some minutes. Then 
he answered in a low voice. 

“I told Ned Napier I’d never write the story 
of his secret until he gave me leave. If he’s dead 
it will never be written — by me.” 

The travelers spent the next night in Denver, 
preparatory to leaving for Chicago at half -past 
eight on the following morning. Bob, always 
restless and curious in a new city, was up early. 
At seven o’clock he returned from a walk and 
purchased a morning paper. 

In five minutes a white-faced young man, with 
a paper clenched in his hand, was dashing up 
the wide marble stairs of the luxurious hotel three 
steps at a time. He had no time for elevators. 


The Sale of the Treasure 309 

There was a crash at the door of the parlor suite 
occupied by Senor Oje and Major Honeywell. 

“Major Honeywell! Major!” the young man 
called at the top of his voice. “Quick! Quick!” 

In another moment the door flew open and 
Bob Russell staggered into the room. 

“Found! Found!” 

It was all he could say. But his shaking finger 
pointed to the great news he had just read. Under 
a two-column head — “The Airship Boys Found” 
— an Associated Press telegram from Hermo- 
sillo, Mexico, told the whole story briefly. 

Although excited over the happy news Major 
Honeywell did not forget Elmer. Before the 
story had been fully read he summoned the 
colored boy to the apartment and the general 
rejoicing became almost hysterical. Bit by bit 
the meagre story was reviewed. The great perils 
through which the boys had successfully passed 
seemed to move the faithful Elmer less than the 
pathetic account of their appearance when they 
reached civilization. 

When Senor Oje had read for the second time 
how the boys had entered the Mexican town, 
gaunt, ragged, shoeless and without even the 
means to send a telegram to their friends; how 
they had been arrested by the ignorant officious 
police and had only succeeded late in the evening 


810 The Airship Boys 

in securing permission to make themselves known 
to an American citizen, the Mexican crushed the 
paper in his hand. Dispatching Bob to the office 
for a railway guide the two men and Elmer 
hastily clothed themselves. 

Elmer’s first words as he returned, jubilant of 
face and excited, were: 

“Cain’t we telegraft them some money?” 

“Or go to them?” added Bob eagerly. 

“Too late for either,” replied Senor Oje, as 
he hastily examined the time tables. “Our friends 
reached Hermosillo night before last. I know 
the town. It is full of good people. The boys 
will want for nothing — have no fear of that. 
Hermosillo is 175 miles from Nogales on the 
Mexican line.” Senor Oje looked at his watch. 
It was fifteen minutes after seven o’clock. “A 
quarter of an hour ago,” he added, “Ned and 
Alan reached Nogales. From that town they 
must go to Benson on the Southern Pacific Rail- 
way and they can’t get a train until tomorrow 
morning.” 

Bob rushed away unbidden to get a telegraph 
form. 

“Unquestionably,” continued Senor Oje, “the 
boys will leave Benson at 8 :23 tomorrow morning 
and hurry to Chicago. They will be in El Paso, 
Texas, at five o’clock tomorrow evening and will 


The Sale of the Treasure 


811 


reach Chicago on the Limited the following eve- 
ning at half -past nine.” 

A few minutes later a long telegram wa^s on 
its way to Nogales, Mexico. It was more like a 
letter than a telegram, and contained an individ- 
ual message from each member of the party and 
an outline of their immediate plans. Late that 
afternoon a long reply was delivered to Senor Oje 
on the Burlington flyer speeding eastward. It 
read: 

“To all thanks. Reasonably O. K. Senor Oje : 
Anticipated you; drew on your bank for $500. 
Major Honeywell: Sorry lost idol and mummy. 
Found ruins beat Egypt. Bob: Write story 
when you like, got another. Elmer : Learned how 
to make real chocolate. Ned Napier and Alan 
Hope.” 

It is hardly necessary to describe what hap- 
pened when two bronzed and strangely garbed 
boys alighted from the Limited two evenings 
later in the big Rock Island depot in Chicago. 
For ten minutes there was nothing but exclama- 
tion and explanation. Reporters surged about 
the returned castaways ; snapshots were made, and 
at last, led by Senor Oje, Ned and Alan made 
their escape to a waiting touring car. As the 
driver headed the machine through the brilliantly 
lighted streets, with three or four reporters close 


312 


The Airship Boys 


behind in taxicabs, the two boys sank back in 
their seats with sighs of relief. In a few more 
minutes they would be home again — Ned with 
his mother and Alan with his father and mother 
and Mary. 

As the big car shot into the glare of State 
Street Senor Oje noticed the drawn, tired faces 
of the two lads. 

“I suppose,” he said sympathetically, “y^^ 
boys have had enough of balloons and aeroplanes 
for some time to come?” 

Alan sat up suddenly. 

“Do you know how he spent his time on the 
train?” And he looked at Ned. “He says if he 
can afford it he’s going to try a new idea he has 
about air navigation.” 

Ned laughed and tried to put his hand on his 
chum’s mouth. But the latter broke away. 

“And that he’s going to discover the North 
Pole if some one else doesn’t do it before next 
summer.” 

“Bully,” exclaimed the irrepressible Bob Rus- 
sell, “and you’ve got to let me write the story; 
It’ll be great; ‘The Airship Boys Due North; 
or. By Balloon to the Pole.’ ” 























